Behind one way mirror they sing of prophecy of the coming days, of things that may happen as if they have control over it. The light shine in the dark room, it is the only light. The guiding light we herd ourselves to. And unbeknownst to us, they prey on us. Only they don't need to hunt, they produce. They produce their food. Which is us.
Over and over and becomes a repetition and it keeps turning to a new dimension of reality.
Oh, the life we chose to had. If only ... but it's just if. Some will know, some will get through, some will be borrowed. And some will turned to blue.
I love you. In the containment of pixels.
In the work we are coming from.
