Mirrors - Speculum - Mirages & Espejismo
Thursday, October 20, 2016
Since I was a child of perhaps 6 when I went into my mother’s
armoire to help myself to as many candy corns I could want (not the two or
three she would hand me out) I found the bag of candy in a little drawer but I
was struck by my image on the inside mirror. I stared and I believe for the
first time I thought, “That is me, I am that image. I am an individual.”
Perhaps my thoughts were not that philosophical but the fact is that I remember
that day to this day.
Since then and perhaps because I am a dyslexic I have been interested if not obsessed by
mirrors and their images.
The Spanish word for mirror is espejo which comes from the Latin speculum. There is more (or is that less?) that meets the eye in espejo as a mirage in Spanish is espejismo.
Espejos
Espejos
Borges was more so and wrote many poems about mirrors and
how they were an abomination (his word) as unlike the sexual act mirrors could
reproduce and reproduce at will.
It was not until the
late 70s when I noticed an ad on TV that I remember telling my Rosemary, “According
to this ad I have a syndrome called dyslexia.”
The leftness being the right and vice versa of mirrors has
always fascinated me and troubled me. I have taken countless of mirror
photographs. Here are a couple.
My father’s friend, Argentine writer Jorge Cortázar wrote
this poem about love lost called Bolero. I will place it in both languages. The
sentence that has always been in my mind is:
You were always my mirror,
What I mean is, I had to look at you to see me.
Bolero by Julio Cortázar
How vain is it to imagine
I could give you all, love and joy,
itineraries, music, toys.
It is like that, certainly:
everything I have, I give it to you, true,
but everything I have is not enough for you
as everything you have
is not enough for me.
So we will never be
the perfect match, the postcard,
if we are unable to accept
solely in arithmetic
two comes from one plus one.
Laying around, a piece of paper
that only says:
You were always my mirror,
What I mean is, I had to look at you to see me.
And this fragment:
The slow machine of heartbreak
the gears of reflux
bodies leaving the pillows,
the sheets, the kisses
and standing before the mirror questioning
each to himself
no longer facing each other
no longer naked for the other
I no longer love you,
my love.
Bolero
Qué
vanidad imaginar
que
puedo darte todo, el amor y la dicha,
itinerarios,
música, juguetes.
Es
cierto que es así:
todo lo
mío te lo doy, es cierto,
pero
todo lo mío no te basta
como a
mí no me basta que me des
todo lo
tuyo.
Por eso
no seremos nunca
la
pareja perfecta, la tarjeta postal,
si no
somos capaces de aceptar
que sólo
en la aritmética
el dos
nace del uno más el uno.
Por ahí
un papelito
que
solamente dice:
Siempre
fuiste mi espejo,
quiero
decir que para verme tenía que mirarte.
Y este
fragmento:
La lenta
máquina del desamor
los
engranajes del reflujo
los
cuerpos que abandonan las almohadas
las
sábanas los besos
y de pie
ante el espejo interrogándose
cada uno
a sí mismo
ya no
mirándose entre ellos
ya no
desnudos para el otro
ya no te amo,
mi amor.
