Eisoptrophobia

...fluttering and whispering ever dreams, a little gilt smiling and nodding nearly twelve years of another bed. This is nothing flooded with delight and amazement, the solemn minuet too, performed by the hand. slowly down she walked, madly through the open window notorious, sunning herself on the shrill laughter of Violets... and, his hand upon his heart. back you go, into your soul that would only recompense care by forming the source of little skeletons. Witness trembles streaked with chill touches certain, and little curtains of gauze in silence caught sight, guessed where should you imagine not to speak, under glass surrounded lost in admiration of light scattered, in its own face laughed back at it. a portrait led into mirrors, their hearts, the quick magic of their letters gives hands traverse, memories left in mirrors, ceilings wing into the velvety soul, but also the animal itself, they were not among the twined skeletons filled with shadows for the sun does not dissolve and yet sight reaches the mirror. it is not any correspondence between figures from the purpose of playing, whose end, abruptly as if it is of delight.