and then our exile

i was walking past the library window, this was on campus at isoi years and years ago, i remember seeing, in the display, a book in whose cover an old man sat on a chair holding a book. that book's cover had an old man sitting in a chair holding a book, which book's cover also showed an old man in a chair with a book. and so on.

or, to be more literal, we were getting ice cream in the shop on sh.khalid, right by t's house in mezzeh. and there were two mirrors facing each other on opposite sides of the room, and when i looked into the mirror i could immediately see t and a syrian family behind us, but then reflected into the mirror i could see myself, t, the syrian family again - and yet again, as it bounced off the mirror once more - and again, and again, until the images grew blurred into one another, and disappeared to assume new roles as infinitesimal asymptotes.