A gust of wind whisks and twirls the leaves, then gently, lays them down for the final bow. I applaud the dancers beyond the gates of my gridded view inside the hotel. The show I had just witnessed was executed in such movie-like precision. I pause, taken aback by how I could possibly render an act of nature as something as unnatural as an orchestrated scene from a movie. Am I living in a remake of life, my own life?
My life no longer connects with nature but finds inspiration through recreations of nature. My imagination is limited to my Apple TV rentals and instagram hashtags, reducing my experience to second hand color frames in digital 1/0s.
This catastrophic realization came to me like the tripping over a rug. It felt like I was awakening from a bad dream, but not sure which is the dream and which is life. Along the way, I somehow lost myself amidst this digital euphoria, and abandoned the simplicity of living life through life.