I live as if in somnolence, repeating moves and behaviours.Regular implementation of caprices and needs. I have bookmarked aseries of links. A cinema, my job, groceries, a barber. I see oasis’shimmering in the distance. Their pictures wave in the heat, asthough they were about to disappear. And they always do, mirages. Thepupils dilate. A dim, pleasant light remains. A relaxing music isplayed. The same places look different each time. Their scenery isintended as variable. It scrolls like a strip in a coffer. A hum ofhundrends sources of stimulation. My temper adapts to the ambience.Adequate sounds, colors and images brighten the mood. I see all mypotential – all functions of the program. My gestures have becomenervous. Movement in 85Hz. They try to persuade me to their fitnessand the new age. One transfer a month, subscription comes cheap.There’s so many views I can’t make out anything of what I see;all the same. Just a flow in a sink. And in the back - controllers,decoys, cardboards and relays. Through the ripples I see the returnof the real. In feedback, it appears so clear. "(...) within the same image all things can be juxtaposedwithout contradiction. The flow of images carries everything beforeit, and it is similarly someone else who controls at will thissimplified summary of the sensible world; who decides where the flowwill lead as well as the rhythm of what should be shown, like someperpetual, arbitrary surprise, leaving no time for reflection, andentirely independent of what the spectator might understand or thinkof it. In this concrete experience of permanent submission lies thepsychological origin of such general acceptance of what is; anacceptance which comes to find in it, ipso facto, a sufficient value.Beyond what is strictly secret, spectacular discourse obviouslysilences anything it finds inconvenient. It isolates all it showsfrom its context, its past, its intentions and its consequences. Itis thus completely illogical." - Guy Debord