The people who dwell here say that nothing is singular. A voice spoken in one corner multiplies across the pools, returning in forms both familiar and strange. Shadows dance along mirrored walls, tracing paths that are not the traveller’s own, yet echo the same motion. To enter is to perceive the layers of self and other, of presence and reflection, folded into one vast, shimmering depth.
Pilgrims fear the mirrors, for the infinite reflections can disorient. Yet those who move with care learn the lesson: depth does not hide truth, it reveals relational complexity. Every perception is doubled, multiplied, and phased, showing that the unconstrued is impossible — that even silence bears reflection, and every cut resonates through the system.
At the centre of the mirrors, the wanderer sees not only their own reflection, but the reflection of all who came before, all who will come after. Here, in this infinite hall, the interplay of system and instance becomes visible: each gesture shapes and is shaped by the whole, each glance refracts across multiple horizons.
The Mirrors of the Deep teach that perception is never isolated. Meaning emerges in the layering of reflections, in the dialogue of depth, in the phasing of selves and possibilities. To move here is to witness the unseen, to engage with the hidden patterns of reality, and to understand that every construal, like the reflections in these pools, contains multitudes.