Drunk again. Drunk on rich, red wine. And as you flail for balance, the other side of the mirror comes out – insectile buzzing rainbow-winged fairy thing, alienated from everyone around her and ready to sting. Drunk like you’ve never been before; in the hangover you’ll swear off of it. Did you really say that to him? Oh, crap. What did you say about her? And all that drinking’s going to go to your waist, too.

Or is she drunk all by herself? Trying to have a party without inviting anyone, drinking herself incoherent with illusions. You’ll notice those cups and bottles reflect in the mirror as nothing more than a bunch of falling leaves. Beware those faeries in the mirror; most of their promises turn out to be worth nothing. The shining iridescence of their wings tends to be there to distract you from the decay.

The wallpaper, ever so faintly tinted yellow (this is a sickly place, let’s not stay here – how can you regain control and get going again?) bears the symbols of Scorpio and Venus – a stinging insect in the moon.