and something too real was the thought of who might be watching, those gazing eyes peering down at the camera through strange and wonky glasses, too many people to count, the lenses eer-extending, and who was it behind them, a looking glass, a maginfying glass, all reflected and refractedd througuh humiliating chromatic aberration of the soul, an aberrant pattern of wicked stained glass and warped old molten glass. heavy as a liquid. and just as pertinent.