**Gravity Reversed At The Edge Of Skin**

I wanted to catch the exact instant our private circuitry spills into public air—the lurch, the blush, then the ecstatic realization that the boundary was a suggestion. I split the world on a bus-window horizon: below, bronze-and-moss reality; above, weightless mercury filaments rising out of flesh and devices, reflecting apricot music into everyone’s faces as the intercom hijacks a playlist. Here I show a shared vertigo: skin as speaker, nerves as antenna—look for the overlapping scars of before/now/after etched into one patch of pole and pane, where residue, vibration, and future scuff overwrite each other in the same square of space.