The Gold-Dusted Mirror
The Gold-Dusted Mirror Act I: The Decision The mirror in my apartment is gold-dusted on the frame, and every New Year's Eve I stand in front of it and watch the city set itself on fire across the river, and I try to understand why the beauty of it makes me feel nothing at all. It is December 31st, 1924. The jazz is playing somewhere below — I cannot hear it from this height, but I know the...
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