from: özge baykan
title: mirrors for breakers "mini hypertext II for the curious "
form: text; narration; electronic text file

Mirrors for Breakers
"Mini hypertext II for the curious "

1.
She cut it with care. Rectangular. One of those she liked most. But they had wanted it, so she gave it away.

The opposite mirror. Cut in rectangular shape, but how wide is its width. Turn it sideways, it will become a tall mirror. It is a tall mirror, in fact.

Some people passing through it, they touch each other before disappearing to continue to proceed. They suddenly disappear. Then they must have been bent. Like playing a game. Bend down, get up, bend down, get up. Many shirts in claret red waving inside the mirror.

She wanted to bring the mirror down, turn it and see her shoes. It was raining, so a plenty of mud.

Then she wanted to knock over the mirror, to let it fall.

2.

She cut it with care. Circular. One of those she liked most. But they had wanted it, so she gave it away.

A piece of hair. There is another beside it. And another. They are clearly an eyebrow. She was epilating her eyebrows. She would almost step in them. Her teeth show, as if she had to open her mouth while epilating.

This time she made them round and black. She looked at her eyebrows for a long time. So long that she forgot her face. Hair, black hair. One of them is gray. Oh.

Another gray hair. OK.

She wanted to steal the mirror and give it as a present to her lover. A circular, complete world. Furthermore, it is two-sided. It magnifies more and more. For her lover’s eyebrows, for her lover’s armpits.

Then she wanted to take the mirror in her hand and draw it.

3.

She cut it with care. Square. One of those she liked most. But they had wanted it, so she gave it away.

May the butcher have such a nice mirror. Square. Wrong, it is not square. Its length is a little longer, but close to square shape. It has thin lines in saffron yellow. A wood section of it bends upwards: to hang it. The butcher’s moustache and the sheep bodies hanging in his shop window stay together. Not his moustache, but the bodies. Some of them shake. And they are cut. Their last glances always direct at that mirror.

Sometimes the butcher takes a glance too, pretends to cut a piece of meal, and tidies up his moustache secretly.

She wanted to take the mirror to her home and hang it to her room. She wanted to rehearse in front of it for her passport-sized photos. She also wanted to grow a moustache.

Then she wanted to hold that mirror and scratch it.

4.
She cut it with care. Square. One of those she liked most. But they had wanted it, so she gave it away.

Somebody had apparently dropped in on the street. Maybe they didn’t want it to be so. The mirror witnesses every passerby there. It has no frame.

The vendor looks at that mirror amidst so much adjacent things. Only one of them is square. Is it the reason? The vendor pretends he is bored, he waits for customers, and walks up and down. Then he slows down in front it, sometimes stops. Right in front of it. To lessen to be looked at?

Caution, there comes two woman. They come, one of them holds a toddler. Any moment now...He should step towards the mirror.

She wanted to buy the mirror, to rescue it from being looked at. To take it to a fortune teller and ask her to give a mirror prophecy. To make her read her face. Read all the secrets of her life that are reflected to her face. Every vein of the tree, including its protrusions and cave-ins. Are some of them unseen?

Then she wanted to grasp that mirror, to shatter it.

5.

She cut it with care. Triangle. One of those she liked most. But they had wanted it, so she gave it away.

They put into the toilet. Triangle. It barely hangs. It is about to fall. They put into the ladies’ toilet. So it will be looked too much.

She watched it from the outside, but could not dare. She watched exactly eight women. Eight women tidying up their collars, turning their backs, turning their necks, turning again, jumping to see their skirts, getting their children up to let them see themselves, asking them their backs and hips, hurrying. She thought they all looked the same. Eight women, sixteen images. But some of them turned again to look. And turned again a few times.

She wanted to take the mirror and make it belong to men. To watch eight men. Without being caught by the mirror.

Then she wanted to throw the mirror away.

6.

She cut it with care. Shapeless. One of those she liked most. But they had wanted it, so she gave it away.

It was discarded. God knows who touched its broken pieces. It was at the bottom of the garbage can. It lies between black garbage bags, sealed tight but the smells coming out of them betraying their contents, soiled.

But she recognized it. It is a mirror. Shapeless.

She wanted to knead it, to make it look like a mirror.

Then she wanted to bend, curve and twist it. Until she loses it.

7.

She cut it with care. Broken. One of those she liked most. But they had wanted it, so she gave it away.

The mirror would show the way to every driver turning that curve. A guide-mirror. And to every pedestrian too. It will help them see their direction.

A dazzling mirror. A mirror that is dazzled. A mirror measuring the speed.

Se wanted to pull the mirror apart from its post and take it away. To carry it with her at all of her travels.

Then she wanted to cut and break that mirror. Then breaking it more. Then cutting it more.

She pulled the mirrors towards her.

Without discriminating between them.

She will make a decision. Sure. A decision. To start. To start, gain speed and finish.

To break it in a moment.

The broken pieces can cut her retina.
The broken pieces can cut her wrists, perhaps her life.
The broken pieces would cut her face.
Before she finds a chance to say ‘Is it me?’
Before she can look at it.

She holds a hammer. And a bag. She took them out of the bag. Three. The unlucky third mirror. Cut with care. Square. Wrong, it is not square.

The mirrors will gradually turn into a sound.