I am silver and exact. I have no preconceptions. Whatever i see i swallow immediately. Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike. I am not cruel, only truthful. The eye of a little god, four-cornered. Most of the time i meditate on the opposite wall. It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers. Faces and darkness seperate us over and over.

Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me. Searching my reaches for what she really is. Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon. I see her back, and reflect it faithfully. She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands. I am important to her. She comes and goes. Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness. In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman rises toward her day after day.