There is a particular kind of loneliness in looking at yourself and finding no one you recognize. The face is familiar, the reflection is yours, yet something essential seems to have moved somewhere beyond reach. Identity is usually something we take for granted. We wake up as ourselves, carry the same name, inhabit the same body. Until, slowly or suddenly, the connection between the image and the person begins to fracture. The mirror does not always show us who we are. Sometimes it shows us how little of ourselves we are still able to hold.