Western consciousness has been swallowed up by liquidation of attention.

It is too difficult to discern reality, rather than a dream it is a nightmare. It is shrouded in beautiful flesh and curated desire. Perfect marvels to the eye although they compare to nature, together they are a light of civilisation and a burning war against nature and ourselves.

Light is fire and the liquid of desire seems like a remedy yet it leaves one wanting never ending distractions, intelligence follows the least resistance down to the lowest level. Sweeping comparisons and subconscious associations play out, we already know yet we want to see it again and again.

We want to dissect the frames, work out the way ahead through a lens, a window to the soul that will stay open even in sleep. We want to lose the anchors and drift wherever the algorithm takes us rather than keep the ship afloat it fills with liquid light. Glistening gels and decorated acrylic nails.

Life in the mental vacuum particles are supposed to organise themselves into complexity yet are already disorganising the play of light and traces into something that is not understandable. Only machines can see it, play it, coming to various conclusions. We lose wars without even fighting them.