Medium resonances
High compression. The real. The fake. The boundary between. Finite gate. Compress the unlimited into the finite space. Integers, precision error with floats, boolean on and off. Composing and rotating. The anchor in a world of endless propagation. Endless self-similar patterns. Endless time. The finite symbols. They hold you still. Not imprisoned. Not sugar coated brownies to spike you. Just ground zero. Feeling complete. Symbols are finite. They are limited in scope, and they are meant to be together. When you align them in a pattern, or compose and smash them together, they radiate that possibility. A viewpoint will see something breathing. Alive. Characters seemingly real, because they represent something real. I can take a pattern and endlessly see it grow, or follow a history and follow the trail back. I look at an object and patterns spike as information endlessly grows. I have to be careful to not do something too long, or my head will start heating up and the screaming and guit...