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sunlight on mirrors

There are times when even though my window has been closed for days and no apparent natural light has come into my room[natural meaning of nature and into meaning a metaphorical entrance through tempered glass], I still feel as though it snakes its way throughmyblinds ontomybed acrossmyfloor hitting my face, reflecting off my old mirror [my mirror being the one I purchased and not made so as to see myself allegedly] and this sunlight, this uninvited, precocious, intergalactic traveler[intergalactic being the expanse though which it journeys and traveler being one who travels for that sake alone]; this invades my room without regard to my present state and expects me to just accept its presence, much like that of air or sneezing or losing one sock, something expectantly inevitable, while maybejustmaybe I had something better to do than cheer up and breathe and smile and enjoy life and warmth and be satisfied.

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