Software. First person interactive story featuring strange algorithmic objects made in Speculative Garden app.

Inspired by Superstudio's Continuous Monument.

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Use Mouse to look around. Use W,A,S,D keys to move around. Use the arrow keys to fast-forward and rewind time.



“Our story is just a parable of formalization, so it is a story of deserts, both natural and artificial…Deserts where clouds may come to earth or where clouds are born, then to generate geometrical, long-awaited apparitions.” Everything goes back to the desert as it, also, goes from the desert. It is an ever present blank slate, a backdrop of any dream. Mountains bloom from the desert, and clouds flower on top of the mountains. Then, a cut appears, as if to arrange for a new gathering of elements. Earth, endlessly rotating, endlessly waiting for the return, or for the final take-off. We can not decide, as forests grow more strange than the cities, as rivers and mountains appear as limpid backdrops, as seas unite to form another desert. Cities in flight, nature in constant movement, it is like nothing will wait for us, make time for us, address our questions. Once posed, they become ages old within minutes, as do our shadows. This flicker is a sister of our perception, and a mother of our wanderings. The one void still available to us is walking. It is the meandering of the soul of the world, it is the receptacle into which we can pour all overflowing silence. And yet, this repetitive action embraces us with calm serenity, as we wonder who is watching from above. The trajectory, the promenade, the road. There are many possible overcomings as there are embraces of the ground. There is one more – flight. It defies formalization, so it is rarely pursued. What else there could possibly be, other than orientation? What we know depends closely on this downward pull we live with. All our hierarchies, all our vectors and lines. Ours is a reticulated space, blooming from a singular point where we started the journey. Our fronts, backs, rights and lefts are free, our down is not. Let us, lastly, consider only one vector, the Up. It is a result of all others, and life and death make sure it evens out in the end. It is the mark of presence of a start as it is of the absence of a goal. It delineates deserts from within, as clouds tend to form just around the tip. And then, after a long while, the clouds start to rotate again.