_{This page is an epigraph that you do not yet
have the tools to decipher

Alive with the conflicting, surging
possibilities to touch and be touched the cursor embodies a constant flux of
relations, events, circumstances, and occurrences.

The I gives living form to connections and
fluxes. I can be a source of pleasure or a cause of uncertainty, as a vacant
pause, a piercing responsiveness or a profound ambivalence.

Unavoidable phenomena in the shape of
Impulses, feelings, hopes, fantasies, encounters, and routines.

Configurations of recognition, attachment, and
agency, entangled with persuasion, infection, seduction and obsession, all
within public and social networks that capture one into something, nothing,
something, with what feels like something.

A
frenzy of activity, but nothing seems to remain. A supposed subjectivity, a
collapse of bodies. The browser refreshes, here you are again, the space looks
just the same as it did when you last accessed this page 28 days ago.[1] But is
digital space a metaphorical location or metaphorical time? A forever present,
a consensual dream. The precariousness is crippling, invigorating, promising.

[1] Rehab for
addiction usually lasts 28 days, it is also the average adult’s skin cell
turnover rate.

{ Disposable utensils are the
instruments with which we will be using to access this stage.

It will be enough for the
experience to last, for the material to be ingested, but ideally, nothing will
remain, and the space will be left undisturbed.

It won’t be substantial enough
to elevate this fare or create a memorable ritualistic experience. It is the
bare minimum to facilitate an encounter while being easily erased to allow for
a speedy exit.}

Game

this is a scene in which you are performer,
and spectator, self or other

center stage and in the sidelines,

sitting on the deck, at the bar or middle of
the dance-floor

where does your gaze fall?

on me? who is that ? or is that me?

do I conjure up this experience for both you
or me

skimming through their stories or the stories
you tell to yourself about them

It’s okay if that is just part of your
imagination, you are too your imagination,

they are part of your imagination.

This is a test, not a conviction.

It aims to arouse consciousness to the I that
comes into view as a result of habit or trauma, resonance or influence. It is
committed not to demystification and discovered truths that support a high-res
screenshot but to speculation and questioning.

“I“ comes together as a feeling, an
occurrence, both alive and embodied. a contestation and vessel of both vitality
and exhaustion, urgent with a fantasy of escape,

What temperature is your screen?

the smell is hazy, an omnipresent dream,

the cool aluminum of some device

sticky with excretion,

your hand is cold,

the smooth glass is warm in comparison

is it warm from your body

how does it feel like against your skin?

a screen against your skin?

do you feel me against your skin?

do you need a screen protector to shield your
skin ?

I am trying to protect myself that's all

the illusion of i know what i am doing

“i know what I’m doing”

Terrain

change of perspective, zoom out ,

drag around

move across the terrain , shift click, top
down, bottoms up,

oh whoops

Im sorry,

your out of ammo, please reload

accept the cookies,

proceed reload

whenever you moved, it moved, It balanced your
moving by moving

There is a fantasy of coherence,

norms are constructed to try and reach that. I
repeat these norms to present that make-belief of coherence.

We may flee but never leave through our
clicks, more deeply entangled in a philosophy that endures through our actions
rather than our understanding.

Our knowledge archive, too, seems to pledge
destruction and forgetfulness in equal measure to permanence and continuity.

Memory continues to be dynamic: an ephemeral
being that vanishes when not replicated but simultaneously deteriorates through
its repetition.

Reverse, reconstruct, re-enact. The processes to re-encounter foreign events
that were said to have occurred in our past. What past, what history, browser
history, or the chat?

I seemed to morph in an out of existence, at
times disappearing, realities lost in an unintended translation. But why
“translate” when it did not belong in that world? For fear of non-existence or
the haunting truth that this section of “I” is some bug in those sequence of
events.

Why I am a sorry you are not meant to be part
of this version of reality, this series of events, this loop, this repetition

there is a loneliness of being together here
alone, but together but alone and together

Stage

This is a site of production.

Behind the screen are actors in costumes,
holding props, reciting lines from a well know script, putting together the
stage play.

In this world those scripts sometimes get hard
to read or words vanish, and the I is left stuck in laughable postures wearing
costumes that did not fit.

Please mock me

But forgive me

scroll more}

_{Save

This section learns how to compress, archive
and transfer files using various tools and methods

Archive and compress are two different
concepts, although we often put them together.

To collect, to gather, to contribute to the
archive,

A constellation

a congregation

an accumulation

a repetition

repetition}