what is now proved

who was dolled-up at the front door when the album was a glint in my milkman eye? leonard cohen in smudged eyeshadow and négligée? skip james wiggling his hips in a leopard print robe? tom waits lipsticked and over-rouged, wheezing laryngitic come-hithers?

for the great renaissance magus marsilio ficino the imagination was a mirror - an immortal mirror that captures the images of the eye and ear and tongue and reflects them to the rational mind. it is a mirror that can warp and manipulate and refashion whatever it receives. it is a mirror that preserves corporeal sensations in spirit as it speaks to a higher realm. so the imagination is stronger than the senses. what we hear, see, taste, feel, and smell is less real than what we imagine. i like this idea. 

my mirror was reflecting the people in this playlist.