VANITY | One line for age, one for temper, three more for temperament, he sighs. Is a mirror truth or merely will? Everything is backwards, opposite, distorted, unreal, image or imaginary? the vitals or something virtual? A reflection of the face of a man, two eyes see two eyes. He painted a line on the mirror, curling at the end, painted another, a black moustache and there it was on his face. Raised the hand to his lip and the lines are on his fingers now instead, a tattooed swirl of hidden mystical meaning, in vanity he smiles to see his face.