It is to strange thing to grow up without a mirror in your room, as I have. Since I was not able to vainly observe my body on a frequent basis I believe I became naturally detached from physicality. Life must have been fundamentally different for the ancients, considering only the wealthy had access to mirrors and even then, they were simple works of reflective metal, not like the refined glass mirrors we know today.

It is a strange experience to see my full body in a mirror and the immediate reaction is disgust followed by a peculiar sort of amusement. Much like the ugly Socrates I find myself with the body of a Silenus and it comes as a surprise, for I have never had a mirror in my room, my own exposure to mirrors coming from a small bathroom one, which only reveals the upper chest and face. “A life without mirrors” seems an absurd notion to any contemporary westerner but looking back on it, the number of times I have seen myself in full can be counted on two hands.

This has had, I think, a profound impact on my psychology, as I have always disregarded matters of appearance as superfluous at best, finding actions and thoughts to be much more worthy disciplines to master.