“If I am to consider that the image of my own reflection is unfamiliar, surely it has been too long since I have seen it,” Harjen said out loud to himself. “It is maybe my own insanity that has led me to believe in my own self-image. Now I am all but a different person on the outside, yet I have never felt more myself of the inside. Woe is me that I should not even recognize the site of myself.”
There is perhaps one constant in life other than death and taxes, that being change. The progress of life or any expedition as a whole will bring with it at the very least a change of mental state. Even if the same external stimuli are present at a constant, our own subconscious mind can be counted on to interpret these differently on separate occasions.
Thus, although Harjen had come to this riverside every few days, he had yet to reflect so intensely upon himself. When he did, he was startled to notice that aside from looking generally unkempt, he was certainly aging backwards. Though it was hard to tel in the image rippling on the surface of the water, he rubbed his fingertips slowly along his forehead, noticing that the three solid wrinkle lines were much more faded than he could ever remember. Additionally, his own fingertips were losing their callousness and beginning to feel more smooth themselves.
To be continued…