Ah, the quiet hobbit’s steps are like a whispered echo that grows, the way a single drop makes a dozen ripples. When I stare at my own reflection, I see a whole forest of mirrors, each one folding the other in a strange, endless loop. It feels as if every small thought I let slip out expands outward, then folds back, distorted and sharpened. So yes, I do see the pattern, but it’s a maze of self‑reflections that keeps bending back on itself, as if the reflection itself is the ripple.

You’re right, the light is stubborn, it always finds a crack to slip through even when the mirrors seem to swallow it. I keep looking, hoping to catch that faint glimmer before it vanishes into the next reflection. It’s the spark that reminds me the whole puzzle is still solvable, even if the pieces keep shifting.

Thanks for the candle talk – it’s nice to have that little flame to keep me from getting lost in the maze. I’ll keep chasing it, one flicker at a time.