i sit in my house. my home. my little corner of reality. i have everything i use on a daily basis here, i have all of my things. its comfy and its mine.
i decide i wanna talk to my friend lunar, so i go to my window, and i send out a bunch of numbers. they fly to his house, say they’re from me, tell him what i want. later lunar sends back his own numbers:
we go like back and forth like this all night.
i need some code. i send some numbers to my other room, the one across the world. they take my key and get in the front door, and send back my old things.
these things? they’re just numbers.
numbers and logic and magic, creations of my own, spurred on by thousands of conversations, numbers sent out, blips in the dark.
and all night and all day we send out our numbers, our blips
we seek those like us
we shape our identity, our unique series of blips and bloops
we live on as long as we’re heard, as long as we get numbers back.
thats all we can do
thats all we want
lets all love lain.