All mirrors are the same. It's the lighting that makes one mirror more desirable than the other. And subsequently, its subject. The lighting however is a very trivial tool that assists the power of the mirror. What assists it that creates volumes of difference is time.
If you spend the right amount of time in front of the mirror, you will finally begin to notice how you do not have eyes, but eyeballs. And from then you will realise how you do not actually have a heart that you sometimes "follow", but a fist-sized muscle that beats at its own will.
I had been meaning to use my last packet of instant film on this ancient olive grove. They are some one thousand years old, a legacy of the Moors' agricultural aid to our semi-deserted Islands. In most of them, their trunk has grown so much that it almost appears as completely hollow despite the green leaves on top. These skeletal foundations perfectly illustrate the paradox of age- they are worn out by the elements but their years of being rooted makes being brittle a part of their strength. My companion and I have dubbed such trees as 'Akira' trees as their carved trunks and chunky roots are reminiscent of that mutation scene. They may not have that air of 'abominable mystery' to them, but they certainly have a monstrosity that is admirable.
The excitement never ceases.