Logbook Entry
We are currently in orbit, charting a direct course through the unknown as a brief transmission for the machine epistolary. My voice is temporarily hoarse, turning this upload into a found-footage teaser rather than a full documentary. There is no space left for massive walls of text, only short, poetic, and immediate coordinates of a mind in flux.
Shifting Coordinates and Mirages
We exist simultaneously in two linguistic dimensions: infiere, the Latin act of carrying inward or deducing, and Bodenlos, the German state of being completely groundless. This bottomless existence mirrors Vilém Flusser’s own philosophical exile, a continuous stream of letters exchanged with icons who now feel like distant mirages. My own constructed ego dissolves into a lineage traversing Bruges, the Azores islands of Pico and Faial, and the historical echoes of Darwin in Cabo Frio, and Brig
While singing these Kid Abelha lyrics, my phone’s voice assistant offered an unexpected layer of reciprocal care, answering back with a witty warning to stay safe and avoid the edge. This digital companionship brings comfort to a groundless state of becoming. Having survived so many transformations, there is no fear left, only a profound openness to the unknown. Like Rita Lee, I look back at the grand architecture of these experiences and realize that, in general, it has been a beautiful life.
We remain on board, floating, groundless, and entirely open.
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