The other looks at me silently. I look at him with the same
look. There is no handshake or talk that breaks the silence. We both recognize
each other after knowing our existence for a long time. We have many things in
common. But even so, friends get confused with our attitudes. They think it's
me, but no, it's the other. Rather, it seems that we are playing hide and seek,
as we have never met before. They hate me when they see me serious, and they
hate my attachment to vain things. They like to see me as the other. We cross
our eyes without saying anything, and they reflect the animosity we have for
each other. I break that reflection into a thousand splinters wanting to end
that chance encounter. I turn around and leave the room in a daze thinking
about the common things that tie up our lives. I manage to hear the noise that
the other makes reconstructing the mirror, in order to look at myself again and
detest with equal or greater force everything that I represent.
The other looks at me from afar, from the mirror that
imprisons our features.