the glass eye in the garage

it’s funny how the most industrial, boring places—like a parking garage that smells like wet pavement and exhaust—can have these weird, warped little moments of art. i found this convex mirror hanging from the ceiling today, and it looked like a giant, metallic eye watching everyone go nowhere.

the curve of the glass turns everything into a liquid version of itself. the yellow lines on the floor look like they’re dripping, and the concrete beams just sort of melt into the edges. it’s a total fish-eye lens of reality, which feels appropriate because lately, everything feels a little distorted anyway. i stood there for a minute, looking for my own reflection in the bend of the mirror, but all i saw was the empty space behind me.

there’s something kind of lonely about an object that exists purely to show you what’s coming around a corner you haven't reached yet. it’s like it’s living in the future while the rest of the garage is stuck in the dim, quiet present. it’s orange-rimmed and dusty, a weird little futuristic relic hidden in a basement.

i think i like it because it doesn’t try to be pretty. it’s just functional, but in its function, it accidentally makes the world look like a dream—or a nightmare, depending on how long you stare at it. it’s just a distorted perspective of a space we usually ignore.