Arafed man looking at himself in a mirror in a room
in an old, shabby workshop stands dusty, a cracked mirror. An old artist sits in front of him, his hunched figure is frozen in dim light. tired face, wrinkled, Full of anguish, but when he looks into the mirror, , the reflection of an unnaturally blurred, like in his paintings. The main focus is his reflection: The face in the mirror is clearly drawn — the nose, mouth, cheekbones, hair — everything looks realistic. But the eyes aren't at all. Instead of eyes — empty black dips, like holes in reality, fully absorbing light. There is an oppressive silence in the room, is as if the mirror itself is whispering silent words, and the reflection is watching the artist from across the edge of reality.
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in an old, shabby workshop stands dusty, a cracked mirror. An old artist sits in front of him, his hunched figure is frozen in dim light. tired face, wrinkled, Full of anguish, but when he looks into the mirror, , the reflection of an unnaturally blurred, like in his paintings.
The main focus is his reflection:
The face in the mirror is clearly drawn — the nose, mouth, cheekbones, hair — everything looks realistic. But the eyes aren't at all.
Instead of eyes — empty black dips, like holes in reality, fully absorbing light.
There is an oppressive silence in the room, is as if the mirror itself is whispering silent words, and the reflection is watching the artist from across the edge of reality.
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