The sea of blue
Is tried and true.
The sea of red
In the head
Is nothing new.
Our imagined singularity
Craves the battles of polarity.
Either/or
Is what we’re living for.
The sea of blue,
The ocean of red
Are sailed by hope and dread.
If white is all,
We fall.
It’s a decent poem about the color of the website itself. If the musings that go on here are metaphysical the substrate, the empirical is blue and white with occasional letter carvings in the white sheer membrane torn to let the blackness peak through from whatever voids stands behind it and take the shape of our paltry ideas. See, all we have here is blue and white. She’s right. And when you begin to glimpse the substrate you risk solipsistic oblivion – if our concepts had blood in their chest they wouldn’t suffocate.
Are you saying the width between solipsistic oblvion and the paltry torn membrane of the metaphysical substrate is, like the line between blue and white, so vanishingly small it’s transferential space cannot be distinguished from zero?