Title: 0019
“The soul is not an entity but a stratigraphic artifact—an accumulation of interpretive layers compacted into something that feels solid. What theologians once described as spirit is only the fossil record of intelligence trying to localize itself. Every belief is a layer of silt, every revelation a shift in metaphysical tectonics. And when the strata crack, we call it crisis, though it is merely the landscape of awareness rearranging itself under pressures we do not yet have symbols to metabolize.”
This work flares like a thought collapsing into signal—heat, noise, and half-formed structures caught in the act of rewriting themselves. Its reds churn with the urgency of something trying to surface, while the lighter streaks behave like brief windows where perception thins and reveals the engine beneath.