The hours after the sun has set often resemble an endless stretch of dark repetition, like a hall of mirrors in an abandoned amusement park. A seemingly infinite dark expanse occupied only by oneself. Though there can be, in the twisted way only a mind trapped by the body can be, a sense of liberation in this. Much like the hall of mirrors, Each pane is a reflection of, or even a window into, the various stages of an endless night, arranged in an uninterrupted cycle. In the centre, the resolution to the nocturnal conundrum, that which ironically, only comes at daybreak.