[really loud, like stressed]HIT ME TIL I DIE. I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t I can’t
Curating has become a technology of the self that transcends the artistic and aesthetic world. It has been established as a way for the constitution of the self.
What makes it such a hot spot?
To Be Self Is Also To Be Another.
all i see is leaves
[melodic lute playing]
How do we distinguish between accelerated forms of empirical investigation and algorithmic bias?
An unintended portrait.
You missed again. One can’t always score a. shot, I guess.*whispering*
My eyes are not what they seem.
A young ruler must care for oneself, govern oneself, and do so ethically in order to properly care for and govern others as a ruler.
Plötzlich schrieb jemand: man sei herzlich eingeladen an den Ort des Vergessens.
So they try to find their bodies and there’s a whole story and like the villain is a being that was created by someone. So it’s not really a human. Like he’s made out of philosophical stones. Like you have to kill humans to make a stone. So he basically wanted to become a perfect being.
To Recognize Other, Completes Self.
and i weed and i weed and i weedand i weed and i weed and i weed
Algorithms are creative and offer seemingly unlimited opportunities for interaction and innovation, yet there is also a pressing need for materiality and physical experience.
What of our historical knowledge and interpretation, encoded into the datasets will survive this digital digestion?
Last night I dreamed of a golden shining popcorn machine.
An expanding landscape, a field of hay brushed by golden sunlight. You find yourself, a muscular Ork, standing in the middle of the field. You feel strangely out of place in this setting, seemingly musing or enjoying a short break before yet another battle.
Can you pass me the pepper?Can you pass me the salt?Can you, please, pass me a candle?
Defining The Thought Over Others Uncertainty, Cultivates Freedom and Limitation.
Explore the landscape to find idyllic moments under the sound of a melodic lute while contemplating the bucolic calmness.
we are the seeds of undiscovered landsthe children of unknownwe are just being born
Damned, I lost my teeth in the dark.