I was in my chalet taking pictures of the pool through the French windows, using the place as a dressing room and hangout area for my guests before I went on stage to DJ at a Death Disco San Francisco. I noticed my reflection in one mirror being silhouetted across the room and being caught sideways in another mirror, light and shadows - mainly shadows transmitting like invisible swarms of changing electrons bouncing everywhichaway from mirror to mirror where theyre sucked down to tarry briefly in the unknown space behind the glass and excuse me while I reflect awhile.

Fifteen minutes of reflective glory pass. Andy was right. Then BPs starts waffling on about the bloody photo again.

Barbara Streisland or was it Britney said I look like some vigilant cat in the trenches or on a submarine somewhere or something, all alert not with a gun but with a camera. Actually, that part of my reflection is shown here on the television, too. And if television doesnt shape you, your shadows surely will.

In Mambo Sun Marc Bolan sings My lifes a shadowless horse/If I cant get across/ To you

And so it goes.