Isn't it profoundly bewildering how we may never see ourselves for real but only speculate an image cast on a glass, or on ripples, or on someone else's perceptions?
Maybe we're all looking for the perfect picture in our lovers, the one that allows ourselves to be at ease with ourselves in all it's distortions.
Maybe we're all looking for the perfect picture in our lovers, the one that allows ourselves to be at ease with ourselves in all it's distortions.