They kept staring. They could feel the presence of the other. The reflection moved faster than they could catch.
“I see you”
The sound bounced off the surface, vibrating the air that encapsulated it. A micro tremor, creaked the brittle liquid. The twins put their hands toward the sculpture. A shadow swept through the dull light.
“I am the wolf.” “No. I am the wolf”
“Be careful. Don’t touch the sculpture” the father reprimands the identical infants.
They run behind the glass sculpture. On the floor, they start to peak through the sheets of tinted glass. The reflection of their father moves from panel to panel. They laugh and start to contort their faces, watching in the mirrored surface. They don’t realize but their selves are watching from different angles. Simmering anger starts to boil, and one of the twins lashes out at the other, scratching his face. A howl of pain and fear rises up. The anticipated moment of anxiety hit the father, and a mix of frustration and care ensue. A desire to prolong a moment swiftly turns into an impulse to control it. He moves around the sculpture, but the twins have disappeared. He can still hear the wails of pain and continued torture of his child by the other. Where have they gone? He looks inside the balanced sheets of glass, only to find the echoing sound lying motionless, between the spectral flair of oily hues. Entangled in one another their form is not clear. They pulse with immanence. Chance and order. He tries to locate his face in the corner of the leaning mirrors, but can only find a void. His mind turns to Kommis’ proposition,
“From the moment of its inception. Destruction”