So another blank piece of paper assaults my senses and my spelling. I have had various ideas go through my head in the last several days, always as I am stepping, or rather sliding, into bed. Infuriating. Once, I had to get up and write because my mind would not let the image go. I am glad that I did.

The face is laughing at me. I know it is. It smiles it's Mona Lisa smile and remains inscrutable. I see it from an angle, the upper portion of the face is most prominent. The eyes in shadow the brow large and wide. The face for a minute looks evil, looks like an escaped mental patient. Still that smile, it knows something I do not, or it thinks it does. I smile my self, I have tricked it. I know what it knows. Now it's smile broadens and I realize that it has realized and the shoe is now on the other foot. It laughs at me and I can't help but to smile at myself. After all ones reflection should know it's own thoughts.

So I sit and am glad for a small moment of solitude. I like solitude, I believe that if I ever get to the point of marriage my eventual, currently fictitious wife, will have to understand that. Being constantly surrounded brings out feelings of claustrophobia in me. I am able to handle it well, but it does not change the fact that it happens.