Hell 1 : Derelict Carnality
From Create Your Own Story
Michel was still staring lividly at himself in the bathroom mirror. He was holding as many superstitions of a change in the expression as possible. It helped him to imagine a separate person to accompany him in the light of any sudden changes to what was reflected, who would definitely communicate whatever came back at him as dryly as possible. There had been a lot of volatility in his dreams, particularly when it came to looking through windows and such. Not out of keeping with his regular habits: whenever he had the opportunity, his imagination liked to reshape drapery into muscly caricatures in a darker room. To him this was a direct analogy to other ways he wasted time.
The rain almost projected itself indoors, frequently interrupting this meditation. His face would occasionally lope forward into the sink and he was steadying himself around the basin. He would be caught up in rituals of feigned character even when on his own, tracing small spots of sheared skin on his hands and massaging the thin, circular plates on both sides of his forehead
