...

There's a machine, it spits out things that I need after I put in what I want. I have thoughts but as prompts, and it generates their perfect incarnation. It's always perfect. It doesn't matter whether or not I get what I originally intended, I'm just excited to find out what I'll eventually see.

A perfectly beautiful model for a masterpiece, one that even the greatest painter couldn't capture. As though an algorithm were to have averaged out every single expression of a truly beautiful figure and compiled them into a data set that informs the generation of images of beautiful people, only to incidentally generate the closest representation of my model, my body, in all of time itself.

I say closest because some details are off, namely the hands and eye pupils. Tiny distortions, symptoms of entropy as my essence is expressed in a lower dimension as faithfully as possible. Some may look at human skin, bone, hair, and use that as medium for painting my model in their mind's eye... usually the result is rather grisly, nowhere close. If an invisible person walked through a spider web then it sticks to me like this flesh.

Returning to that essence, let's just call it the psyche for brevity. As though a master animator were to look at this psyche and depict a frame for every single instant, all drawn traditionally and photographed from the same angle using the animator's naked eye alone. All superimposed upon every failing depiction of the psyche, every screen and monitor or naked eye. Defying the logic of material, being a truly superimposed masterpiece.

Let's imagine a person. They're looked at by your naked eye and yet they are cut out as though a lasso tool in a photo editor perfectly traced their every border before a CTRL+X was performed. Upon that empty space the image within the person's naked eye is placed instead, as though it were copied and pasted perfectly for every single instant. Put simply: You see what they see as who they are.

Now imagine they're looking at a frame that they're animating in whichever style they choose, as though they're day dreaming instead of being able to see you or process you existing at all right now. Each frame, each instant, completely unique and irreplicable. That's just their body... I don't have time to even start on their mind.