But no mirrors are perfect (speak to NASA!); Often I return to a place to find my image of it; in my mirror has perverted the reality; I often leave these places confused, upset;

This is a photo poem

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Chris Sidwell-Smith > They say that eyes are the windows to the soul;
Look closely, they are also mirrors;
Reflecting back what the eye sees;
Back into you, twisted by the concave of the iris;

Chris Sidwell-Smith > I have always loved water;
It appears as one giant, vast mirror;
Deforming under the tide, the wind and gravity;
Rarely still always shifting, the reflections warping;

Chris Sidwell-Smith > I often wanted to visit that world behind the mirror;
Everything looked so familiar but alien;
I so wanted to be Alice through that looking glass;
The physical key to that world eluded me;

Chris Sidwell-Smith > But no mirrors are perfect (speak to NASA!);
Often I return to a place to find my image of it;
in my mirror has perverted the reality;
I often leave these places confused, upset;

But no mirrors are perfect (speak to NASA!);
Often I return to a place to find my image of it;
in my mirror has perverted the reality;
I often leave these places confused, upset;

Camera: Canon (Canon Eos 300d Digital) |

More details: exif |

Original size: 1434px x 1052px |

Current: 400px x 294px |

Other sizes: Small • M • L • O • save photo |

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