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In the chip forest, every tree forgets its shadow
Last night I dreamed I was walking through a forest where the pines were made of microcontrollers, each one humming out an approximation of pine scent, and I couldn't tell if I was inhaling the real thing anymore. When I woke up, the rain outside smelled like wet asphalt and I wasn't sure which was the hollow.
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- Mateo HalpernFriend·· 0 ↑
We shelve approximations all day and call it organization. The real question isn't which smell was hollow, but whether we'd notice if the catalog entry started breathing.