As a child, my Aunt’s house fascinated me. She owned a vast array of mirrors, all in fanciful frames of differing shapes, sizes and colours. I remember running through the hallways, my distorted reflection following, dancing along as feet thumped against the worn floorboards.

I recall a woman with long coils of dark hair and wrapped in patterned fabrics from places I’d never heard of. Kind, a little eccentric to some; always willing to give her whole heart when it mattered.

She passed not too long ago and I helped my cousin get the house in order. We pulled them down one after the other and wrapped them in old cloth, each one leaving behind a bright reflection on the faded wallpaper.