The city did its hair in the dark, while our sentences look for their part down the middle.
This piece knows it’s exaggerating, but it checked everywhere: in the margin, below the fold, nothing reflected a thing.
This morning, in countless bathrooms, faces failed to show up, as if reality had posted a little sign: “Come back later, thanks.” Don’t protest: we too, by reflex, tried to look at ourselves before writing these lines, and found only a perplexed paragraph there. The tone remains grave because it’s the tone of a serious article, even when the absurd tugs on its sleeve.
“I tapped the mirror; it gave me a very professional silence, then a square of fog that read ‘adjusted hours,’” confides a toothbrush, honestly overwhelmed by its responsibilities. According to several witnesses, spoons tried to help out, but only managed to lengthen the faces as if dawn had switched to panoramic mode. The shop windows, for their part, chuckled through their transparency, which is a polite way of doing nothing.
At 9:59, our headline prepared to triumph; at 10 o’clock sharp, the reflections returned with an air of not seeing what the problem was, which is exactly their specialty. We would have liked a technical explanation, a complicated word, a diagram: alas, we have only our own incredulity, pleasantly framed. If you catch yourself smiling while reading these lines, it means the phenomenon has ended where you are; here, it’s still going on a bit, just long enough to adjust the lock of the conclusion.
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