Weirdness abounds while the clock ticks and memories get melted down by the endless flow of time, which twists and bends the registers of what we perceive. Doomed, finite, yet Universal. Every piece of matter shall melt at the feet of Entropy, the overarching gluttonous force of the simulation. Separation and dissolution, while we thumble our ideas as ourselves. The definition of being alive interfacing with so much technology when we still have some control, at the edge of having the physicality of our bellies engulfed by the incoming machinery that will inevitably turn us finally into another cell of another cell of another being on another realm.

Molten Memory

The chasm that a muscle can bring to culture can be the size of a planet, smacking media on the face, laughing at imposed ruling, even among the rulers. The jester, defaced, deconstructs the situation in their minds at a million frames per second while the forces behind the curtain and into their ear scream for the stability of the status quo. The jester compels. The jester composes. The jester loses their title, blemishes their oeuvre. By standing like a rock thy will be done, in a way. Many meaningless things will never be the same again, which, in of itself, is a meaningless thing. The royalty has slapped itself on the face and no entity slaps themselves hard enough to make a change.

Muscle Memory

Camarada Ian Neves apavorando =) 

Fonte:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i7yVhmy0j-U

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