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The Night Sea Journey – sorry, Agnes

digital hand drawing

Like Alice, crossing the threshold of her own reflection to be swallowed up by an opposite,
[I] might pass through the screen into a deconstructed other dimension where [I] enter my selfsim and turn my back on this world long enough to be refreshed.

Or [I] could be absorbed into a pixelated Night Sea where all familiar narratives become fragmented into infinite bits with no centre and no desire for order or reason
before being defragmented
into a new, aesthetically complete volume.

If a new, whole selfsimself emerges from the blue screen
with tales of novel creative processes and potentials,
all well and good,
but what if [I]’m merely erased and only zeros and more zeros is the outcome?

//Corruption. The death without the rebirth. Is that how it happens?

//At this point I wonder if it’s worth the risk and I have to suppose it is.

//Sorry, Agnes.