Published on: Invalid Date
The time for turning pages is long gone, yet the tale only just begins. Looking out across the hazy atmospheric sky where the light saturates into the thickness of the golden hazy fog and unnatural marsh scents drench the air in a chemical smell. This land belongs to a strange planet, it barely remains to exist in the world it is in, filled, as it is, with the chaos and competing nature of wildlife and fauna scattered through and across the empty space.
Looking back now and reflecting on the body of work my time had produced is frequently startling. Several of the works appear to be incomplete, and worse, entirely lacking in reason or purpose. One thing is clearly apparent to anyone briefly suffering the torture of reading the work. The author should self-edit and strive to enlighten the reader. A simple way to accomplish that is to avoid confusing language. It might help to use fewer words and/or shorter words. But what is intelligence really when there are so many options out there existing in space? One of the consequences of thinking for a long time about how to encode large amounts of information within a single event has caused me to develop a sense of the interconnectedness of all things. That effect comes from understanding that if it really is to be possible (to fit a high information capacity into a single event) then it must be a communication where everyone available is able to contribute something unique, and surpirsing, to that information.