SOCiO web3.0: π·πππ πΏπππ
The road home was erased like the last page in a childhood notebook. The asphalt dissolved in the digital fog, becoming a field of oblivion, a threshold behind which everything tangible remained.
"Do you remember that last evening, that air soaked in the smell of ripe poplars and the shouts of children? That very, only, piercing reality of the native yard?
And I don't.π«₯
This happened in the very era when my "I" found its first digital silhouette - a ghostly account in the sparkling neon gardens of social networks. That's how my great resettlement began.
My first love was born not from the look, but from the light on the matrix. Not from the touch, but from the vibration of the notification. It was woven from letters in the messenger, from a pixel smile on the avatar, from simple emoticons and a sizzling router, like in the shell of the emerging web2.0 ocean. Hologram house.
And I forgot... The warmth of a living shoulder. The world outside the window, with its dust and accidents, faded, giving way to the impeccable, controlled shine of the screen. Eternal, artificial dawn.
I became a citizen of digital Babylon, without merits and passport. Many worlds helped to forget the one, the only one that remained behind, cooling down forever, like the last page that can never be turned.
There is an opportunity to purchase a physical version of the art.
Oil painting, 20x30 cm
2025
