И аз се _осмелявам_ на английски, защото идеята ме нападна на този език и аз просто се предадох. Воала...
- Mirror, mirror on the wall…
This was more than a mirror.
Don't allow yourself to be fooled – like all mirrors it reflected the objects before it: the frame of the window, the grass, trees and flowers in the garden behind the glass and, further away, the hills. It also reflected sunlight.
But the strange was that it caught the sunbeams all day long.
You should not be mistaking that it was like all other mirrors. It was not only reflecting the sunlight like it’s brothers and sisters over the world; it was glowing with shine from the time the sun peeked over the hills, until it sank into the deep blue see on the other side of the house.
Before this mirror there was often a man.
He would stare into the reflection of the light for hours. Sitting on a chair right in front of this magical view, he would find himself lost into the see of golden waves.
What he liked about spending so much time in this room was that he could actually loose without mourning. The sensation of not seeing the shapes, the shadows, the frames of objects and people brought to him a silent satisfaction he had never been able to find before. It was the loss of reality he never thought able of letting go until he stared into the mirror for the first time.
This man never wondered why his mirror was so unlike any other. He was happy to simply have the chance of feeling what it had to offer to his soul.
His friends, however (not that he had many), were more than curious to find how was it possible an ornament of such kind to even exist – one that can escape the very laws of physics.
So they had the man persuaded: they were to have his mirror examined. He agreed – not easily, though he did. And so one day two other men came and took the magical ornament off the wall.
The mirror’s owner came back every day after the peace of magic on the wall was taken away from him. He would still sit on the same chair, staring; this time, into the bare spot on the wall.
The wall itself was neither ugly, nor empty. There were many beautiful pictures; type of drawings that steel your breath and take it away to the place, universe or mind that it represents. In the corner of the room there was a small table, with a vase on it. In this vase, the mistress of the house would put a new bouquet of fresh flowers every day. But this view never managed to satisfy the man the way his mirror did.
A couple of days after the mirror was taken from him, the man got sick; He laid in his bed, unable to stand up at all.
His friends all visited him, one by one. Every time he was asked how he was feeling, he gave the exact same answer: ‘I have my sight back.’ No one was able to grasp the meaning of these words, as the man had never been blind. He was not near-sided, nor ever had any problems with the eyes whatsoever.
The mirror gave its examiners no clues for the origins of its magical qualities. It was returned on the wall a month after it had been taken. Its owner died in half that time.
The mirror continued to serve its natural purposes: it was still reflecting the frame of the window, the grass, trees and flowers in the garden behind the glass and, further away, the hills. It no longer, however, reflected the sunlight. At all. Not one stream of light entered it no matter if the sun was shining right against it.
The chair before it was empty.
The mirror has lost its purpose…
Като се знам, някъде времената са грешни, но вие ще кажете. Показах, каквото имам. Ще дадете ли, каквото мислите?
Дано да не ти се е сторила изгубено време...