My colorful complex function lived in a universe of white light.
I turned off the light. Turned it into its negative.
Expected it to look bleak. Like thin white bones on black canvas, cartoon skeletons of imaginary alien creatures.
But it is more like the total solar eclipse I watched in 1999.
There is interference, emerging moiré patterns. There is light. Corona discharges. Creatures coming to life.
(We’ve became the epicenter of the pandemic, and art keeps me sane.)
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