On passing a mirror in the foyer of a hotel that I cannot afford to spend a night in, I recognise myself on some parallel path to that which I am presently on. I know, beyond any reasonable doubt, that the reflected image is not another person but a moment's apparition of myself and, most certainly, not a duplication of me in the flesh.
As a member of the seven thousandth generation of the not-yet-extinct homo sapiens species, my use of language continues to open up an infinity of meanings from a finite range of words, just as if my words are being reflected back and forth endlessly between two mirrors.
My stringing together of words to penetrate the understanding of others empowers me with a capacity to represent things and happenings that are not occurring in present reality to take up residence in the shared imagination of our intercourse.
I take and eat
bread broken
on the altar