miris.bar
back room / optic licence 03
rab.sirim
THE OPTICIAN’S DOOR
The brass oval waits behind the eye chart.
Knock once on the smoked glass. The lettering arrives backward, turns through a mirror plane, and the room exhales violet around the pupil.
PUPIL STAIR
Each step narrows, then remembers itself wider.
Blue black lacquer folds beneath your shoes. Brass ticks count the descent while the wall shows your reflection arriving three seconds late.
MIR-02 / BELOW THE LENS
IRIS COUNTER
The bartender reads color before thirst.
A cherry hangs like a pupil. A lemon twist curls like an eyelash. Your first drink is mixed from the shade your gaze leaves on the glass.
MI RI SBARRAB
miris.bar
LAST REFLECTION
Leave by the mirror that does not return you whole.
The bill is a brass eye chart. The door plate dims. One reflection remains at the counter, still lifting a coupe to the light.
NO RESERVATION / ONLY RECOGNITION