Lacan And The Lure Of The Look

In vain your image comes to meet me And does not enter me where I am who only shows it Turning towards me you can find On the wall of my gaze only your dreamt-of shadow. I am that wretch comparable with mirrors That reflect but cannot see Like them my eye is empty and like them inhabited By your absence which makes them blind. It was an instance, par excellence, in the Real.…