Mirror, mirror . . . most of the mirrors in my house started out somewhere else. One wooden mirror was an antique shop find. Ditto a gilt one. The delicately ornate bronze mirror came from my Scottish step-family's apartment in the Bronx. The faintly nautical round mirror was from my childhood home in Queens; the full-length mirror from our newlywed apartment in Midtown Manhattan.
Note: I just discovered Word counts an ellipsis (at least the way I write it) as three words. I do not.
Nice. Good reminder of Word's quirks too.
ReplyDeleteSecond-hand mirrors are the best mirrors. You never know who might be lurking in them.
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DeleteMe too! I hope it's not the witch from Snow White.
Delete"most of the mirrors in my house started out somewhere else"—I love this observation.
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