Wednesday

Maybe its because I've started working, maybe its because I have more 'responsibilities,' whatever that means, or that I feel others looking at me, something about Sartre's look: 

Famous example, the peephole. I look through the peephole, observing you without your awareness. Then suddenly, shame consumes me. The intensifying footsteps suggest that you've found out. I have gone from a voyeur to an object, and it all took place within the space of your consciousness; I am made aware of you, of becoming a part of your lense. You extend yourself onto me, and I consequently depend on you for defining the meaning of my existence and behaviour at this particular moment. I've lost my agency. Look at me, everything I do is because of you! You have reduced me.

But the reverse is also true. I can look at you. You may think of me in just the same, mutual way of whether I also shape you. We are a labyrinth of mirrors, sinking into each other and rising only to find another you, me, or image that no longer resembles the me, or you, from just a while ago.



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