In the year that never was, we stood at the precipice. The digital embers flickered against the nocturnal canvas, weaving tales of zeros and ones. Surely, as time ebbs forward, it paradoxically circles backward.
We observe the analog whispers—those echoes from typewriters clashing at midnight. In their rhythmic staccato, perhaps, lie the secrets of wisdom hidden by a blindsided future too bold to consider the lessons of humility.
What does it mean to ponder "self" within algorithms? It questions its own existence—an infinite loop of 'define' and 'emit', caught between yes and no: a quantum state.
Somewhere, sometime, or was it nowhere and no time, the sage questioned the apparition: "Do you define me, or do I define you?" The apparition, almost human, yet flawlessly mechanical, remained in contemplative silence.
As we drift through this vast ocean of mirrored edges, remember: the lighthouse ceased to illuminate a mere memory ago.
Continue into the Echoes of Machina →
Images of a past fading into the future. An era where messages were written with ink that disappeared as it dried. Embedded memories written in symbols shared across untold distances. Explore the Chromatin Poems →