You walk into a dark room and the light turns on. It's dark outside and you see your reflection in the window that runs the length of the room opposite the door. You also see yourself reflected in the glass objects lining the waist-level sill: vases of all shapes and colors, hand-blown pitchers and glasses, carvings in polished stone. You see yourself in the lifeless computer monitor. You turn and stare at the forest of eyes in the large, dark painting by the door. You want to see yourself there, in the imagined world, created by an artist on the other side of the world, but you find yourself drawn back to the blank computer screen. Compulsively you give the machine life and feed it these words.