There was another one of those days, I just kept going,
forgetting my fuel, eyes slowly giving in
the loser of a staring contest with my own screen
I remember lying there.
Merging with my bed, facing the ceiling.
with a Demon enjoying the comfort of my chest..
thinking about - this place here -
..it doesn't seem to be finished yet
(however that might be the fucking point)
How can anything be finished?
When created by beings
..that are..
..and then disintegrate
(never finished)
speculative rennovating
saturated void
interpolation of a sinkhole
..sinking away..
I was dreaming of streaming..
..me and my mattress merging
(with the lowest possible bitrate)
PHOSPHOR
This relatively weightless (<1Mb) virtual object holds a sum of meditations on the temporality and spatiality of crashing.
It gazes at disruption from within a space in which protagonist(s), stage, and camera are merged. Entirely written in HTML and CSS.
Created by Ingmar König