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The Museum of Vestigial Desire


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Institutions were imagined to set things into motion. But things have been in motion anyway. Of course they have not fit our search pattern very well. When we look out of our window, we see a set of random activities in play. We do not have the patience to formulate a pattern from what we find in front of us. We want do more of what we do but we do not want to observe and appreciate what is out there. This is a catastrophic event. We keep releasing venom into the world and the world keeps becoming a bigger and bigger mess. The only problem with the world is that too many people are trying to change it. Because too many people are trying to change the world at the same time, we cannot see the world as it is. But we are seeing the world as it is. There is no parallel present. There is no present behind this present, sneaked away in some dimension that we do not know how to access.

We need to institutionalise ourselves. If we do not perpetuate ourselves, history will not do justice to us. And if history does not do justice, our miserable life and its footprint will disappear like loose sand in the wind. We do not care for our history but the narrative should be be good. We are storytellers not because we have special talent for telling stories but because we care for the narrative more than anything else. Our obsession with the narrative is the most important thing about us. We are better un-utilised.

The angles between the stars are equal to some-or-the detail in our body. There is no number that is not repeated. Because infinities are limited by finite lifetimes. We will not always be there. We know the inevitable will eventually catch up.

We are often taken aback that we exist at all. Given our peculiar tendencies, our own manners are not supportive to the struggles of survival.

We are here for now, but in a moment we can disappear. But we will not be so kind. We are not going to be on the defensive just because you are on the offensive.

There is nothing about our hardware that bears the mark of our software. That our self is just a light-hearted sketch is apparent. It is so light that we sometimes feel like window-frames.

The meter is broken, so we can never measure the passing time. We have to rely on our memory and our memory is just a dream. Our dreams get the world all wrong. We walk upside-down and figure out that that is not possible by falling on our heads.

Our water has also broken. Right here, unexpectedly, we are going to multiply. You didn't even give a shit about me, and now there is two of us. What are going to do? Take a moment.

Once there are two of us, we are going to talk to ourselves and you can listen-in.

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