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I've spent the day in front of my memory box. I was slowly scanning a vision without knowing that it was a description of a dream. More and more my dreams find their settings in the clouds. A face appears, disappears... a trace is found, is lost. The heartbeat of dreams is so much in its place that the next day when I am awake I realize that I continue to seek in the labyrinth of the Past, a Future concealed the night before. I begin to wonder if those dreams are really mine, or if they are part of a totality, of a gigantic collective dream of which the entire universe may be the projection.
Avatar, Real,Virtual, Duality, Illusion, Presence;
Bird, Airplane, Drone, Satellite;
Camera, Modes of seeing, Streaming,Projection, Internet (of things);
Memory, Message, The call, Transmit and Receive, Echo;
The Moon, The universe, Space, Intermediator.
Chapter I: Celestial Bodies The Avatar creates consciousness.
Actually, what is it really, that I am trying to question here.
I am aware this set of memories, is not a random reflection of thoughts and dreams.
It can be seen as a search, a quest, an attempt to question questions I have answered with nothing more than questions.
I feel I am lost within the threshold of the reality depicted by or through technology. In which the digital and the real, the virtual and the physical become inseparable, identical.
I wonder if there is such a thing, as a distinction between either one of them or is it an illusion. Is my concept of reality nothing more than a play, casted, staged, and set in motion by something or someone else..
Or is it me, who is in control, as I control the memory of the one who sees and is being seen, by nothing else, or more, than me. As else, one and I become someone else.
Can this memory be seen as a projection of a dream, a representation of reality, from the past or from the future. A future memory, as I envision myself, to be realized to be.
This search becomes entangled with my dream of the present. A hope for connection, envisioned and embodied through perceptions of being. Being alone, being together, being elsewhere, being present, being here, being now, but most importantly being home.
What can be defined as being home, a connection to the source, the receiver, the antenna, whether not the origin of existence itself. If you are able to be home from a distance, can see home, or being watched from home.
If that’s the answer, then, where do I come from? Am I technology and or do I belong everywhere? I want to grasp it, I want to be able to hold this illusive feeling of being seen.
But being seen, is nothing more within this present, than the ability to become physical, tangible. A materialistic urge of becoming visible.
I inspire myself to be a form of technology which enables me to be freed from the limitations of space, as to fly like a bird, see from above ever as from below, transcend the speed of light, to stream, perhaps to be all that more than a depiction of the internet itself. Within my present, I not only become part of the 5G network, I am the fifth generation. A generation that like the camera, the birds-eye, frees itself from immobility and moves on.
Still, how can I capture illusions that are not materially conceived to be grasped. A labyrinth without an exit, within an entrance. Blue squares, resembling the blue screen, the televisions, an imprint of my hopes and dreams, a projection of my thoughts.
Either way I envision beginning and endings within my memories, as for the airplane detects the beginning of a mobile era, but also the end of the dream to be able to fly.
Nor on land or on water, I encounter my form of connection. I ask myself, whether it is contained by gravity, as my memory itself becomes a contained projection of the universe. In which the moon becomes the call from space, an intermediator between different locations of time, between me, my avatar, and myself, as we are two or one or are we together, either way we both have moon.
And there it is the moon, the source of light, the shadow of the sun, the echo of our existence. If anything, what would you send to the moon. Here it is the question. And what would you receive back, the answer on the question.
I am consistent to answer my own message, in which I deliver/sent my question to the universe, in hope to receive an answer. 2,5 seconds later I received back the same question as to begin with. As the moon presents an echo of my voice to be delivered seconds later in my time, a message from the future becomes history. It mimics the same mechanics of a phone call, a conversation for two, between the caller and the receiver, a network of generations, sent, transmit and receive, similar to watching others being watched, while being the watcher and being watched yourself.
I envision the hope and feeling of the pure and divine, as for nature in relation to the artificial suggestion of digital plastics, provoking the feeling of sensibility and intimacy, entangled within the relationship of privacy. Who knows, if I am the one who is in controls, seeing the blueprint of memories, behind the blinding light of my screen, my keyboard, my piano. As for now I hover over to become the before.