"Conspiracy theories are like black holes; they explain everything, sucking in facts the way black holes suck in matter. And, like black holes, each conspiracy theory is a portal to another universe that paradoxically resides within our own. Everything you've ever known or experienced, no matter how "meaningless," once it comes in contact with that universe, is enveloped by it, and is then cloaked in sinister significance."


“Art is a universal phenomenon and a multi-versal experience. From the beginning of time, all peoples had different means of responding to the mysteries and exigencies of being through the use of symbols and images. Before the introduction of formal education, these bodies of thought usually made their generational transitions through oral traditions.”

The Future of the Future

We are all sitting in this big and beautiful Shrine made with wood.
This sanctuary is in the middle of a giant uninhabited forest.
This Forest is made of weeping trees with gigantic trunks.
These trees are surrounded by mountains.
There are no longer cities, but this giant forest all around.
Within our wooden mausoleum,
We are 1000 people sitting on one bench.
All together we compose a choir.
A silent choir.
We seek the light,
We seek the light.

Before to start singing, we begin a procession.
A walk in the forest.
Up and down.
A full circle.
First we are guided by a sound source.
We follow this Melody...
Come after the glow,
We follow the light,
We follow the light...
The walk is long but never tiresome.
We do not stop, Never.
The light & the sound source is a presence.
A beautiful force.
In a shape of a girl
Everything seems peaceful and unified.

Then come the wooden bridge.
The remains of our modernity.
The Future of the Future :
We are blind.
The presence too.
She leads the way.
The bridge is cracked in several places.
One of her leg get trapped & crossed the floor.
We are all cut in our tracks.
Strangely, she is not.
The sound continue.
From this halo of light,
We are able to distinguish a face.
A beautiful Visage full of bliss.
A frightened man who stands behind her
Manage to move her out
And heal her leg with leaves and berries from the weeping trees.
And as if nothing had happened
The march resumed.
1000 voices rose in unison!
Her voice rises higher in the sky
In a very beautiful song that i can not remember
But that is part of me.