The landscape shifts and stretches, Steeped in movement. The weight of solidity gradually removed, until only lightness remains. Objects dissolve into fields. Inner and outer spaces twist into orbifolds. Reality folds inside out. The present envelops its past and future.

trg space in kibla

As you step over the threshold, the magic circle pulls you inwards. You wear an unfamiliar skin, extending your body into the world. With every step, you are gently absorbed, transformed. Your cells begin decelerating. You become the flow, all smooth edges and slow transitions.

You glide effortlessly from one sensation to another. You taste sounds, smell colours, touch light and listen to fragrances. Your senses distributed. Delighting in movement, your body fills with ease and agility. Jumping, twisting, turning, rolling, loosing your way and finding another. You speak motion. You send movement into the world as a wave. It echoes back to you as textured resonances and flickering luminescence. Modulated voices of undulating gestures.

On the periphery of your perception, luminescent traces appear and disappear into translucent shadows. Their rhythmic fluidity governed by hidden algorithms. The world speaks to you in thick, pliant murmurs. A language of calligraphic choreography. A ballet for digital and physical matter. Symbolism of nouns deliquesces into movement of verbs, ungraspable.

After a time, you notice other people emerging from the membranes of the world. Tentative explorers, ecstatic players and quiet observers. You lower yourself on the yielding floor to watch them for a while. Watch them shaping the world. Watch the world responding. Growing, shrinking, evading, disappearing, recycling movement into light and sound. Human and non-human agencies in an entangled dance of rippling cause and effect. Performing socially, acting environmentally. Bodies, media and technology interweaving their visceral memories in a hybrid reality. The warp and weft of intersecting reality tunnels.

A little girl lands on your lap, laughing. She flicks her wrist, jumps and skips, summoning the world to her. Bursts of voxels and vortices soak you in quivering light. The continuous resonance explodes in sharp babel. Like millions of glass shards in a crystalline conversation with molten glue. You converse without speaking each others’ tongues. You improvise. You lay down and squirm, mimicking a lightform. It offers you its etherial tentacle. A gift, a touch, a kiss. It lingers briefly, then resumes following the girl who is energetically pulling and pinching its embodied edge. Stretching a sensor wire, sending an impulse. A request to respond. The world answers in an audible shiver across the floor, as gooseflesh. The girl shrieks ecstatically, bouncing and falling. Sinking and letting go. Cradled by the world, lulled into sleep.

You close your eyes and listen. The world continues to evolve behind your eyelids. Abstract shapes metamorphose into alchemical creatures, inviting you to play. A strange game of hide and seek, of emergence and disappearance. You listen to the polyphony of their irreverent voices, filled with confusion and requiescence. They copulate with the eddies of air produced by your shifting position. They feed on your presence. They pass through you, extend you beyond you. Effortlessly.

Without realising, you have become entangled in an irreal, pataphysical ritual. With ceremonial grace, your receptive perception flows into eloquent liveliness. Where the essence of everything is relation. A festival of signal and noise, speech and movement, sculpting and dissolving. The distance between you and the world melts away. You watch yourself melt into the perpetual presence of mutual becoming. Until the watcher itself vanishes into the fabric of the world.


  • f15/transient_reality.txt
  • Last modified: 2017-02-18 12:19
  • by maja