The world is caught by the quick, efficient short term, while the internal deep springs of contemplation and moment-to-moment existence dry up, orphaned of their vents and outlets. Technology is working round the clock in making life follow the machines that beguile us with their unending service of needs that we never knew existed, and our eyes have closed themselves outwards. Hanging on the outer, out of balance, working the sensory riches of speed and immediacy, want and profligacy, we sacrifice the real and the hidden art of encoding the immortal inside us. But out of the blue moon, when time stands still, the silent space is awake again, giving lies to the deception that the seen matter is all that matters. It is in these times that we see those rational packages of short defensible bytes - followers and followed, pokes, likes, wants and posts - as nothing but the ephemeral tuning out the immortal. As the machines bind and connect us infinitely more
On the infrastructure behind all things