Alice Through the Looking Glass

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I believe I know exactly how Alice might have felt as she fell through the Looking Glass.  I can duplicate the sensation in one of two ways. First, through the use of mirrors, I can see the infinite distorted images of myself stretch out in triplicate until I begin to lose awareness of which one of the images is the “real” me.  Second, I can open my laptop and wind through the images of me, in both word and photo. These images appear when I click on the Pages icon or press the iPhoto icon.   The rabbit hole opens as I begin to scroll through the many, many, many, documents and photos on my computer.  It appears that I am as prolific as a bored wood carver in a forest.  

I see the path, circuitous and long, that I have taken to arrive at this juncture.  My words flow like the brook at the end of my driveway; sometimes, they glide fluently, while at others, they drag and catch.  There are times my words bubble wildly, unrestrained and melodic, without any real direction. I am Alice, upside down.  Images and words, ass-over-tea-kettle,  I am Alice.

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