The sign says Hall of Mirrors, but when you enter you nd it is more than a simple hall.
You are met not with oor-length unadorned planes of mirrored glass, as you half expected, but hundreds of mirrors of varying sizes and shapes, each in a dierent frame.
As you move past one mirror reecting your boots, the mirror next to it shows only empty space and the mirrors on the other side.
Your scarf is not present in one mirror and then it returns in the next.
Reected behind you there is a man in a bowler hat, though he appears in some mirrors and not in others. When you turn you cannot locate him in the room, though there are more patrons walking along with you than you had seen within the glass.
The hall leads to a round room, the light within it bright as you enter. It radiates from a tall lamppost that sits in the center, towering black iron with a frosted-glass lamp that looks as though it would be more at home on a city street corner than in a circus tent.
The walls here are completely mirrored, each long mirror placed to align with the striped ceiling visible above and the oor that is painted to match.
As you walk farther into the room it becomes a eld of endless streetlamps, the stripes repeating in fractal patterns, over and over and over.
