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CRYPTOLOGY

  Thank you for reading (and experiencing) The Oxygen Age; snippets from a world that may or may not exist. It has been fun and enlightening to fill it with musings and rambles. I, however, really have been missing the sweet simplicity of the good, stupid, idealistic warm glow of a homemade video, of a small humble tv screen and the sound of old songs; so... See you in The Telephone and Television Age 
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The Telephone and Television Age

 

(PROLOGUE/?)


Isn't it your disease, isn't it your miracle that you think? Isn't it the wonder that you look up to, follow, tread behind? Isn't it the gratification of minuscules that wracks your unity? And you are besotted with it? And you find it intolerable and tasking? And you pray to escape it every chance that you get? And you cannot live without it? And you cannot sit with or within it for too long? And you cannot glimpse a thing if not because of it? 

This individual meticulously formed universe, littered to infinity with everything, is it not, too, just a big 'box of memories' both lived and yet to be touched? Is the love for the whole world not simultaneously a fear of losing it? Is the fear of one's vision being lost in time not just the love of it? 


          






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