An experiment with a misleading name
Ada answered from her new flat and immediately asked whether the second patch was still reaching the bench. She was a potter, preparing a small exhibition about how light changes the appearance of glazed surfaces. The blue cup was one of her test pieces. She wanted to photograph it in direct morning light and again in the reflection, without moving the camera or the cup.
Ravi remembered helping her position the mirror between furniture deliveries. They had adjusted its angle over several mornings until the reflected patch crossed the same part of the bench as the earlier direct light. Ada's notebook recorded the trials. 'Right place at last' marked the morning when she could finally make the comparison she had planned.
She sent June the two photographs. The cup occupied exactly the same position in both, but its highlights and the shadows around its handle were different. Ada had titled the pair Two Sunrises as a playful description of the garden experience. She had never expected someone to encounter the working notes without the pictures that explained them.
June printed the photographs and placed them inside the notebook with Ada's permission. When the mirror was collected a week later, the second patch disappeared. The garden had not changed its rules; one route for light had been removed. June kept her own measurements too, pleased that a puzzling phrase had led her to observe something she would otherwise have walked past.