I decided to lock myself in. A forced segregation. Sabbatical. A retreat into myself. My selves. Play hide and go seek in the looking-glass. The mirror angled at the foot of my bed. Twisted reflections bouncing off into infinity. Obsessed… — Lydia Lunch Copy Share Image
They were the screams of riders torn apart by the twisted reflections of their own inner selves. — Neal Shusterman Copy Share Image
