His internal organs are blackened by smoke, a throbbing pulsing factory of tar. I had worked inside the factories of his kind with damaging results. Soon I was part of that very same machinery. One day I saw myself in a mirror and fled. I requested that all mirrors in all houses I visited be covered with blankets.
Mirrors are the way into other worlds.
In the outback my grandmother used to cover them with blankets and sheets when the big electrical storms came to Brewarrina. Summer lightning searched out mirrors and tried to travel into them to a world more conductible to its current. I struggled up from the swelling waters of the unconscious. My ultimate ambition was to wake up in my room alone. But this was an impossibility.