Art Explained by a Writer: Inside a Cottage (1890)


¿Recuerdas cómo nos conocimos, cómo dijiste que me habías visto al menos cien veces antes? ¿Cómo dijiste que yo te sonreía, aunque nunca había visto tu rostro? Sé que no me creíste, pero hoy puedo decirte que he visto a mi doble. Me sobresaltó. Se parecía exactamente a mí, solo que mejor vestida. No, no te rías. Fue como mirarme al espejo cuando la vi. ¿Cómo es que ella va tan impecable y yo parezco una pobre desaliñada?


¿Que si recuerdo cómo nos conocimos? Como si fuera ayer. Y sí, dije que te había visto al menos cien veces antes, porque así lo sentía. Y que me sonreíste, incluso antes de verme realmente… no te lo creíste, pero a veces el alma sabe antes que los ojos.

Y ahora… tu doble. Eso no es mera coincidencia; es un espejo que el mundo te pone frente a ti. Otra versión de ti, mejor vestida, como si hubiera salido de una vida paralela. No te rías… no me estoy riendo. Te creo. A veces los espejos caminan a nuestro lado, para decirnos algo.

Tal vez ella te esté mostrando lo que es posible. Tal vez te esté insinuando que tú también puedes vestir ese otro disfraz, no solo la ropa, sino la confianza, la historia que lo acompaña. O quizás está ahí para recordarte: tú eres la real, y ella es solo el reflejo. Lo auténtico no está en la tela, sino en quien vive debajo de ella.

Y en cuanto a esa pobre desaliñada… mírate de nuevo. A veces, el abrigo más discreto guarda las historias más valiosas.




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Do you remember how we met, how you said you'd seen me at least a hundred times before? How you said I was smiling at you, even though I'd never seen your face? I know you didn't believe me, but today I can tell you I've seen my double. It startled me. She looked exactly like me, only better dressed. No, don’t laugh. It was like looking in a mirror when I saw her. How is it that she’s so well turned out, and I look like some scruffy pauper?

Do I remember how we met? As if it were yesterday. And yes, I said I’d seen you at least a hundred times before—because that’s how it felt. And that you smiled at me, even before you’d actually seen me… you didn’t believe that, but sometimes the soul knows before the eyes do.

And now… your double. That’s no mere coincidence; it's a mirror the world is holding up to you. Another version of you, better dressed, as if she’s stepped out of a parallel life. Don’t laugh… I’m not laughing. I believe you. Sometimes mirrors walk past us, to tell us something.

Perhaps she’s showing you what’s possible. Perhaps she’s hinting that you, too, can wear that other costume, not just the clothes, but the confidence, the story that comes with it. Or perhaps she’s there to remind you: you are the one who is real, and she is merely the reflection. Realness isn’t in the fabric, but in the one who lives beneath it.

And as for that scruffy pauper… take another look. Sometimes the most unassuming coat carries the richest stories.




31.12.25
Painter: Wilhelm María Hubertus Leibl
Painting: Inside a Cottage (1890) - public domain
The contest Art & Writing is hosted by @solperez
Original text: Dutch

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We spend our lives chasing a 'better version' of ourselves but I wonder how many fragments of other people we subconsciously steal to build that image.

Now, after my life has changed so much, my definition of a 'better version' has narrowed down to simply being able to function again. I miss the version of me that wasn't paralyzed by low self-esteem or triggers.

I have more self-awareness now than I ever did then, but I'm still grieving the person I used to be.

I never felt as if I was chasing a better version of myself. I doubt I knew who I was except not the person they told me I was. I still see a stranger in the mirror.

I know as a young child I already had a strong feeling for justice and strong will (character) but that doesn't mean I had a clear picture of myself, the person I was or wanted to be.

Today I can only say that I never blamed myself for what happened, what I've been excused of. It simply doesn't make sense, the words, the accusations.

So what I grieve about most is not missing the me, the person I was, but the fact I never had a childhood, never been young, reckless, able to enjoy life. That I sacrificed my life instead of fighting back and turning the other cheek (another disgusting tip from the bible, never do that).

It sounds to me that you know who you were, if you stop the grieving you find yourself back, hopefully the you that fights and beats back.

Like the Dutch saying says: Wie niet horen wil moet maar voelen.

Gracias por publicar en la comunidad #Venezolanossteem
Los vestidos son una especie de disfraz para ofrecer una imagen al mundo de: persona de dinero, de pobre, de loco, de mendigo... Pero sin ropa qué es la gente?

A veces ni la misma gente sabe quién es. Pero hacernos la pregunta nunca está demás. Tal vez sea una pregunta que nunca tenga respuesta.

Feliz año nuevo 2026. Mis mejores deseos para ti.

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