There Was Never A Minus Between Us

I wanted the horizon itself to confess that reflex and algorithm are the same tissue. I split the world with a seam where entropy silk unravels and reknits above while a bone‑white, jointed tendon‑terrain answers below; in their overlap, three temporal states overwrite each other until “before,” “during,” and “after” become a single scar you can’t place in time. Look where the scan lines bite through the weave and the ground pushes back—the exhilaration is in realizing the erasure unlocks a new sense you already had, and the vertigo lands when you notice the blend never blends, it replaces.