The white wall. It was so soft, this whiteness that encompassed my sight. It was like I had passed from the real touching things realm to that of the digital space. Except I was in a restaurant bathroom peeing.
As an architect, I could see the countless conversations that created that plaster wall, so utterly smooth that the dim lighting cast zero shadow on its surface, so perfect that it seemed edgless and infinitely deep, like computer places. Except this was all space and nothing in it. A white black hole, so yawning that it had neatly enveloped my consciousness itself.
It was tempting to stay there, in the whiteness that reminded me of computer space, the way I did all those years ago online, flipping from profile to profile, after a time seeing the interchangeable nature of human being and simply being turned on by the space of it. A giant, invisible infrastructure of connection. Perfect and seamless and potentially endless people, and their friends, and their make believe friends. And their desires, and their make believe desires.
A space for everything else about them.