The other day my full-length mirror fell and shattered into tiny pieces. I called my mother to ask her what ritual is performed; I don't want seven years of bad luck. I laugh so hard, but these kinds of thoughts amuse me. What would I do without them?
Just this morning, during my morning walk, I was thinking that everything would be easier if we didn't have bodies. Then, as always, I started to daydream: first I imagined us as bubbles; then, why not, all in the same mold, with the same body, the same physique? After all, what matters is the content of that body. I vividly remember reading Kundera talking about not knowing yourself physically; it blew my mind.
"Imagine you lived in a world where there are no mirrors. You would dream about your face and imagine it as an external reflection of what's inside you. And then, when you were forty years old, someone would put a mirror in front of you for the first time in your life. Imagine the shock! You would see a completely strange face. And you would know clearly what you are unable to understand: your face is not you."
And here I am, recording myself with my phone to see my whole body, replacing my now-nonexistent mirror. What a drag being human and all the vanity that comes with it.
