Cu câtă fidelitate îi redă imaginea! E ca un sclav umil care-şi dovedeşte ataşamentul prin fidelitate, un sclav pentru care ea prezintă cea mai mare importanţă, dar care n-are pentru ea nici o importanţă, un sclav care îndrăzneşte să-i înţeleagă dorinţele, dar nu şi curajul de a face dragoste cu ea. “Pe peretele opus se află o oglindă ea nu se sinchiseşte de această oglindă, în schimb oglinda se sinchiseşte de ea. But this itself is the way to understand their true nature.” In the same way, we only know and have concrete experience of that which is relative to our condition of body, voice, and mind. This 'nature of the mirror' is not something visible, and the only way we can conceive of it is through the images reflected in the mirror. But what do we mean by this 'nature of the mirror'? We mean its capacity to reflect, definable as its clarity, its purity, and its limpidity, which are indispensable conditions for the manifestation of reflections. When we look into a mirror we see in it the reflected images of any objects that are in front of it we don't see the nature of the mirror. If it is beyond the mind, though, how can we approach an understanding of it? “But beyond the mind, beyond our thoughts, there is something we call the 'nature of the mind', the mind's true condition, which is beyond all limits. Today I'm Alice: Nine Personalities, One Tortured Mind I’d watch my lips moving and say it again, ‘Who are you?” I could hear the words it sounded like me but it wasn’t me. The weeping fit would pass and I would drag myself back to the mirror expecting to see a child version of myself. My Switches could take place when I was alone, transforming me from a bright sixteen-year-old doing her homework into a sobbing child curled on the bed staring at the wall. All teenagers are moody when it suits them. These changes were described by Dr Purvis as mood swings and by Mother as floods, but I knew better. My eyes in the mirror’s reflection were glazed like the eyes of a mannequin in a shop window, my colour, my shape, but without light or focus. In this dream state I didn’t feel like me, the real me. I felt fully awake most of the time, but sometimes while I was awake it felt as if I were dreaming. Like Alice in the Lewis Carroll story, I slipped into the depths of the looking glass and couldn’t be sure if it was me standing there or an impostor, a lookalike. I would pick up a book with the certainty that I had not read it before and hear the words as I read them like an echo inside my head. The change was triggered by different emotions: on hearing a particular piece of music the sight of my father, the smell of his brand of aftershave. I would feel more confident or less confident mature or childlike freezing cold or sticky hot, a state that would drive Mum mad as I escaped to the bathroom where I would remain for two hours scrubbing my skin until it was raw. I felt my inner core change at the same time. A few times, I caught the switch in mid-stare, my expression re-forming like melting rubber, the creases and features of my face softening or hardening until the mutation was complete. At other times, I could see someone similar but different in the reflection. “I had a bizarre rapport with this mirror and spent a lot of time gazing into the glass to see who was there.
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