We met in the mirror. When we walked into our room for the first time we saw ourself in the mirror. I mean, that’s what you see in a mirror, isn’t it? Your self. We looked identical. Almost identical, anyway. We both wore a shapeless white dress. But our dresses weren’t exactly the same. We were both carrying the bags that contained everything we had of our old lives. Everything we had in the world was in those bags. We had the same bags. But not quite the same bags. We both dropped the bags at the same time. Though not at precisely the same time. I looked at my reflection. It was me. But it wasn’t completely me.
A writer, translator and composer, Francis Booth is no ordinary author. After living in Asia for several years and then moving to London, he has now settled in St.Leonards and writes from his house overlooking the sea.
I think you will love this. Everything a short story should be... charmingly written, intriguing, and thought provoking. I don't really know how Francis Booth has managed to do this really, because, having read it, I can see all the details of the scenarios in cinematic detail, but he has created that without labouring over description. It somehow taps into the collective cultural memory of Dorian Grey, Jane Eyre, The Yellow Wallpaper, and the best of the English storytelling tradition. This would make a perfect movie. Highly recommended.