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Sunday reading:
I. THE SERVER ROOM
April is the cruellest month, caching data from the sleep-deprived land, stirring dead pixels with springtime protocols, mixing latency and memory leaks. Winter kept us buffered, covering interfaces in silent frost, feeding a little life on compressed streams. Summer surprised us, coming over the fiber line with a burst of heat and notifications. We paused in the chatbox, and went on in sunlight, into the digital courtyard, and clicked refresh. He said, “Marie, Marie, hold still. You are glitching.” And I was reassembled on the screen.
Part 1/5 from
RJ
waste.land, 2025
Text and audio, in collaboration with AI
after T.S.Eliot ‘The Wasteland’ (1922)
MP4
1280 x 780 pixels
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