"the real problem with the interface is that it is an interface"
--don norman, usability expert and champion of human-centered design

between two towers
rests my interface,
a common privacy.
i think to you
you scream to me.

where i will build my home,
where i awake from my illusions of disconnectedness
where i seek to realize beyond mere knowing
that what my fingers hold, not only my fingers hold.
that what my feet erode, not only rubs off on my heels.

in this age of information -- the ramping up of stimulus so that when we're ready for it, when we catch up, we won't be entirely lost on it -- i hope we're learning that the urge to hide is the most basic and most futile urge of all.

even in hiding we swallow the labor of generations. if you try and hide more than 10 feet off the ground, you rest on manhours and steelhours. you rest on punctured and aerated, vacuumed and filtered, melted and molded lithosphere. we grind the crust and try and hold it all in our heads, but, like eating the skin of an orange, once the taste is lost we wonder why we went about it in the first place.

until we can jump into the molten furnace of our planet with body suits and take copious notes, we shouldn't give ourselves more credit than we deserve. we are not entitled. we breed centers while we should breed bodies. there's everything true in assuming you are wrong until you hear it from every person on this planet that you are right.