The San Francisco Experience or The Search for the Abstract


The trip began in a dream fever; Focusing on a point with your eyes left the environment’s light pulsating in and out with heart-beat precision. The second wave hit days ago and has no intention of letting go any time soon. The dark puss oozed down a diamond, leaving each plane reflecting the light, the multitude of color spectrum spread through the viscous air, swimming through the intricate corals.

The flight attendant was standing next to me, after a blink she was telling me two things at once. The whole steward crew began looking at me, and haven’t let down their gaze through out the whole duration of the flight. The pilot has announced that he wanted to land the plane into the ocean and for the first time in his life – lose control.

In the daytime shadows blend in with the Sun’s light. The Hotel rooms have no doors, and one side of the building is made out of transparent material. Exposed, I watch each room living out their lives, plugged in they carry out their tasks. There are rooms with what visibly has no end within The Hotel that hold personal belongings of people who once rented here, temporarily storing away their personal items.

At night, the faces of the shadows are all looking only at you in the sea of the crowd, pleading to help them find a way. The women are more in touch with their emotions and tears are flowing from their eyes. Stuck within their own selves.


There is a group of people that you can become part of, which grants you the access to move from Pub to Pub just by walking through an underground passageway that connects all the main Pubs of the city. The drunkards were full of flees, passing out on the ground, slowly growing into their new home. Here I have found The Guts of the city, the yellow bile and the rusty pillars that hold it all together.

I wanted to climb onto the highest peak to be the closest to The Sky. Couple of questions were on my mind which needed to be solved. Luckily I’ve done this before, operating the 4th dimensional elevators could be a daunting task for the inexperienced. Being able to not only have the 3-axis of translation, but also stack on top of one another the placement of the Lift that you’re used in the ‘past’; every time you operate one of these things it always feels eerie. Moving past the multitude of Elevators I’ve reached the Head of The City.

The people were wearing strange clothes, which I assumed was a formal attire. The clothes themselves gave of odor which could be felt as strings of silk floating in the air, not unpleasant to the touch; the fibers connected with the other person’s clothes, thus making a connection. The people in the room were silent, and any noise that was made, was made just to put strangers like me at ease.

The gate guardian gleaned smoothly with technical precision, metallic contraptions moving like liquid within his semi-opaque carcass. The Wizard of the tower was hospitable and treated his guests with respect. I’ve learned much in the field of semantics, and which processes are needed to be involved to run The Mind of this City which thinks outside the conventional bounds of thought.


From the 39th floor, scale could be observed.

The San Francisco Experience or The Search for the Abstract