I’m happy to marvel at the billowing black noxious beauty of it, at the rib-cracking hacking, the caterwauling symphony of coughs and screams
I just leave him there and enter the shell of Ingo’s apartment. The masterwork is gone. My future is gone. I fall to my knees amidst the wet ashes and weep, for humanity as much as for myself. Perhaps this would have been the work of art that would do what no other work of art has ever been able to…
Reel 703. Something has changed. I am almost certain. I do not think I am imagining this. Not like the last time. Or the times before that. I am certain of it in this reel. There is a spot. A small spot in the center of the frame. I am compelled to watch it in this otherwise sea of white. A pinpoin…
White. White. White. White. White. White. White. White. White. White. White. White. White. White. White. White. Unlike Plato’s Cave, there are not even any shadows in this projection. Nothing from the world of the ideal is being projected onto this wall. Perhaps the lesson is that ideals are illuso…
And those still-sighted who have been moved by this astounding sermon pull out their very eyeballs, which then fall to the floor of the dim cave and roll around. It turns out it is not at all funny in real life, but rather horrifying, tragic, and disgusting. I snap some harrowing photos that, sadly…
