Through the Looking-Glass

I wish it wasn’t a few seconds each time only, the smooth passage across in-between places. There where reality is not one thing or its opposite, but infinite gradations of color. 

Let’s pretend the glass has got all soft like gauze, so that we can get through.

 Why it’s turning into a sort of mist now, I declare! 

It’ll be easy enough to get through.

in “Alice Through the Looking-Glass”, Lewis Carroll, 1871