Parallax

The road home is suddenly unfamiliar. Turning again, a fleeting moment of deja vu
feels almost like hope.

The mirror becomes opaque with time. Looking again, a fragment of translucent glass
pierces the heart.

The people we love grow distant. Trying again is like looking at a spot on the horizon
with one eye closed.

The displaced object only appears so because of the change in the position
of the observer.

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