I never experienced natural darkness before—only the compounded darkness of closed slumber receptacle boarding rooms: the slow hum of mechanic shutters, the horizontal droning clasp of a windowless panel door, and the nightlong tick of day’s coming alarm.
I am agitated by the unexpected arrival of natural darkness and its new sensations: a rhythm-separating silence that bleeds my senses into the ecosystem’s surroundings, erasing the dependency of procedural generation, and sequencing my perceptions into a meshed landscape.
I am in a clear space.