On and off.
Black and white.

0 and 1.

Organizing the world is a human artifice to walk. Crossing reality requires a compass, as in the open sea, without references.

0 and 1

Accepting the inconsistency of opposition is the compromise to dream, to invent, to find something new.

0 and 1

I wander around the cave, heading in all possible directions allowed by intersections, shared spaces, reconstructed links.

0 and 1

I was too tired to have only one pair of eyes, and no longer find yours: I manage to slip into the crack of a cave of meanings and observe from afar the darkness I am immersed into.
I travel at the speed of electrical impulses going from one side to the other, storing instantaneous snapshots of my surroundings, linking them to each other like a geographical network of the existence of this place.

As I scan each route, I see pages I have crossed, others I have written, I also see my dead body, connected to a cable that fits into the eye sockets. With the knowledge that I do not know what my state is, I continue to search for the answer to the only question left: is there an exit?

But as I grind down images of my surroundings, the same shadows I saw before I died reappear in the snapshots I collect: they are still there, it was not a hallucination before my last breath. I slow down the pace, frame the spaces, focus and the pixels reveal the shapes of what I see.

They are people climbing from page to page, going up or down the slopes and clinging to the links stretching between one 404 and another. The more I slow down, the more I see them: they are everywhere. How could I not have seen them before? Covered in rags and without strength, they wander restlessly in search of something. Why haven’t we met?

I see him too, on page 301: he stands lookout on the platform that supports it, ranting and stretching his arms out in all directions. The pain he feels pushes me onto other links.

What is everyone doing? What are they chasing? Are they also looking for the exit?

Each with their own story that they don’t remember: they pass by each other as if they didn’t exist, their eyes are unable to recognize each other, obsessed by a single need that takes possession of their whole person.

0 and 1: a reason to all this, a sense that gives order to everything, a map of causes and consequences.

Then I see a black page that I remember: it is where for the first time I saw the same sparks that I turned into. A dark 404 from which I have never returned. It stands in the middle of the cave and is at the centre of a star of connections leading in all directions. It must mean something.

I reach it in a single moment and observe every detail to find the last clue that will free us all.

I go inside, find the pipe from which the sparks are coming out and, this time, I go inside without feeling pain.

I have found what we were looking for.