Our square spaces, efficient in maximimum use of space, effective in cramming as many people, things, pets, wants, needs, cravings, addictions, into a space. Using up the space. Not allowing for any air to breathe. No inbetween spaces. No pointless benches, in case someone is tired or wants to watch the sunset. One square, or rectangle, lines up directly next to another one. No passages, no hidden footpaths, no empty spaces. Just one block after another block, lined up, row after row. Or stacked up, column upon column. A grand multi level chessboard. And we are its pieces.
But this is only the macro world. What about the micro? Where stone becomes spirit. Stone becomes as fine as thread, burning with nerves. But instead of immersed in a body of water. A body that once crawled out from the sea. These nerves carry only simple logic. Repeating in sequence. On. Off. The message traverses along straight lines and right angles; square, sharp and hard. The borders are clearly defined. Nothing leaves the square space. Scream. But no one listens. Unless you have a viral video. But then who really cares? There is no interaction. Each video is a square on a screen, tap. A square window into someone’s infinite universe. Motherboards are not warm and comforting. They hard, and precise, as clock work. Just as a mother who lost her instinct. So she waits until the clock tells her to feed her hungry child. Out of rhythm. Out of thyme.
The processor chimes away, silently. As lights turn on and off. Everything is simple, square, static, with a clear yes and no. Dark and Light. There is no inbetween. Just the cold, hard logic of stone on stone. And the fire that burns along it. The switch of a light. As memory remembers and forgets. Zero and One.