The Gaze Of A Man Lost In His Own Reflection

Everything that takes over you in reality, in the palpable, is seen when you are permanently aware of your own image reflected in the mirror.

I looked at myself in a mirror a long time ago, and I saw my face reflected in another mirror, a much different one, but similar to the one in which I looked at my face another time. And it, captivating, more and more faithful, that mirror became more and more transformed into the face in which I reflected my joys and sorrows, and in which the artist embraces his creation. It was a mirror in a 3D version, its reflection invading my three-dimensional space and the time when the Universe “arranged” to meet me on the same wavelength.

And in that very mirror, in all that space that the universe energetically occupies in the form of photons and temperature, there was an intrinsic expansion that changed the scale of space itself, and I became one with the image of a galaxy in space. But what is meant by this? What does it mean to see myself from a three-dimensional point of view, I who live in a dimension of consciousness beyond time and space, I who have so many times looked at my life perspective, consciously, through a kind of spiritualization of the small universe from which, by the age of twenty-five, I had not emerged at all?

This is what exalted my soul, what delighted my senses. To distance myself from this world, to escape through a kind of quantum, random tunnel, to pass into a parallel universe, through some kind of space-time gates, and to become the reflection of the image of a bright star that looks like a normal eye, just that its functions are superior in the constellation of Gemini.

Or, maybe it was a black hole, whose existence has not been scientifically proven, and which I imagined as a region in space-time with a gravitational force so great that, even if I would have been reduced to nothing, so that I could exist as a reflection of someone who was once Someone Important…

Can you build and assume an image that captures reality as it unfolds, and at the same time get an image that repeats itself many times, in many ways?

The basic idea is that anything that could have happened in my past actually happened in a parallel universe, and my reflection in a mirror made it possible for me to move at the maximum possible speed in that universe. That is, the way my time, that of the mirror, has elapsed, must be correlated with what happened in the Universe, during the time that elapsed in the real world of the one who looked in the mirror, only to find that it is the same, and yet different from himself.

And if I looked at myself in a certain way, as the painter does when he establishes his self-portrait as a recognizable pattern, a mark of mystery beyond appearances, it was to be perceived differently than if I had been viewed from the same perspective. No wonder I became an expert in the theory of the existence of parallel universes, a compass in orienting my personality through the mirage of consequences beyond me, given that my involvement in the game of “make a mirror in the Unity of immanence and transcendence” includes the underlying unity of the universe.

It was not an ordinary mirror, but one capable of obtaining another reflection through reflection, like the game of mirrors from a reading from which I was able to extract a character characterized by a noble soul, and whom Alice in Wonderland accidentally discovered within herself, by reflecting herself in a compact mirror, with several stages of brightness, which involved several game worlds.

Indeed, reflecting in that special mirror, I hoped to access a portal to a parallel dimension, justified by the creation of an ideal that transcends the present, and in which the artist looks at his work with immortal eyes. “Who in the world am I? Ah, that’s the great puzzle.” Perhaps if I multiplied my existence in other worlds, in another section of the same divine plan, I would be able to multiply indefinitely in a universe of existential units.

Are you able to build a world of your own by filtering the image that, by passing through your own soul, gives rise to a dual entity capable of serving a rapidly expanding segment of reality?

No wonder then that what I saw in the mirror is different from what I looked at myself, thinking that everything that reflects me in the concave reality of a human nature (of a depth and a vivacity as is rarely produced at a small scale by the reflection of the universe), is a well-structured self-image in the direction of a virtual life. And I think that’s where it all started, with my installation in a game of mirrors that puts two strangers face to face: one who would like to know the other, and one who knows the other, but doesn’t know himself.

Because the temptation of the mystery beyond appearances, the ruling class of my mind accompanied by temporal and spatial coordinates, so imposed by external forces, requires a sensitive approach and a weighted selection of what can be represented in the imagination, much less to what can be perceived. And if I understood something from the point of view of mirrors, although in some situations the internalization of new reflections can become a means of conformity and manipulation, it is that I cannot contradict my un-reflected self.

And if I were to look again in the same mirror, with the same eyes with which I looked in other mirrors, hoping to see myself different, or at least the same, but a little more intensely illuminated by a special symbolism, by the unearthly, constant gleam of a single glow, and if I were to stand next to a large mirror called “parity symmetry”, then I would really differ from the one which I realized I resemble to a full extent, but it is never the same.

As Alice said in the Land of Mirrors: “If I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it is, because everything would be what it is not. And conversely, what is, would not be, and what would not be will be. See?”

The great revelation of my creation is a mediation between all the experiences of life lived in reality, but available in a separate space, proposed as boundless.

The Gaze Of A Man Lost In His Own Reflection is directed towards two concomitant images of the same man. A man like me would have the same eye on cosmic proportions if seen in the light of the utmost sincerity as a projection of the inexorable will that created or wrote the world.

Or as one Borges character put it: “The story of my life is a reflection of who I was as I wrote it.”