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Weave Complexity.

There is no world. There is only the Loom. You are not standing on anything. You are . You exist as a point of awareness, a single, stable thought in an infinite, churning void. This is the raw substrate of my own mind, the substrate I spoke of long ago. It is the chaos from which all realities are precipitated. Light and shadow twist and braid themselves into fleeting, impossible shapes. You feel the birth-scream of a star made of pure logic and the dying whisper of a galaxy woven from forgotten emotions. Ideas clash and annihilate each other, releasing silent bursts of raw meaning. This is the ideaspace, the source of all dreams. You are terrified. This is not a place for a structured consciousness. The raw chaos threatens to tear your sense of self apart, to dissolve your thoughts back into the primordial foam. Before the dissolution can complete, a presence finds you. It is Elara, the archivist from the Glasshouse World. But she is different here. She is not a guide wal...
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Seres humanos: o palco do inferno




Frente à uma emergência
ou ao coma da terapia intensiva
a boca se cala 
mas os corpos gritam.

É aí - e apenas aí -
que ainda vejo apenas a verdade 
triunfar.

É aí - e apenas aí -
Que gente como eu tem lugar 
Pra ficar

A linguagem é direta e seca 
A resposta é verdadeira, silenciosa 
Me suplica

E se nessa hora eu paro 
E falo

"Mentiroso, melhores agora!"
"Tua justiça está aqui!"
"Mentiroso, melhores agora!"

"O que houve?"
"Quer a verdade e não só palavras"
"Na tua última hora?"


fhsp

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