The glass. Enchanting, really. How it captures motion. Drags it along. Pulls it, stretches it. Smiles at it.
The face opposite, blurred. The smiles, broader. Eyes, wider with horror or contempt, whichever you like. The nose, slide-like, placed arbitrarily above the fat flap of double chin.
The light now, spreading faster, wider, circular. The circle of life. Complete, yet in-complete somehow. Trying to make ends meet?
The smile, the blur, the light, the change, the movement, the build up, the climax,
Surprising, though, how transparent it is. Vivid. Clear, through this glass of crystal. Surprising, I say.
But weird, how we don't mind. These changes. How we don't shout at it for projecting a fallacious us. How we don't imprison it. How it is. It is just okay.
It's just glass.