She stared at her reflection in the glossed shop windows as if to make sure, moment by moment, that she continued to exist. Sylvia Plath
The morning slips away in a Valium haze and catalogues, And numerous cups of coffee, In the afternoon the weekly food is put in bags - as you float off down the high street. The shop windows reflect, play a nameless host to a closet ghost - A picture of your fantasy, a victim of your misery... Paul Weller (singer)