We are sitting in a dimly lit room, in front of a long mirror. But our reflection is not the only thing that appears. Someone is on the other side. And before long, he’ll start mimicking our micromovements—the scratching of his nose or arm, the straightening of his back, the stretching of his legs. Then it will start to show itself slightly less subtle, invading our intimacy. We will not be touched — everything is just a play of light, which, by illuminating the other side of the space, allows us to see the other body and the reflection of its hand resting on our shoulder, for example —, but it is as if the distances were being reduced.
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