SORRY, I BROKE YOUR PROMISE is a text-cosmos entwined in its own birth and decay, suffering both obscurities of erasure and, amidst the resulting caverns of darkness, twinkling ignitions of wit and purpose. Quasi-intentional structures appear (or appear to) on every scale, summoning the ghosts of meaning and compelling them to a perpetual haunting, but stubbornly, through its own self-creating processes of distortion, redaction, and interruption, the text always holds any final possibility of meanings materialisation just beyond our reach; the forms of the visible are systematically undermined by the invisible, by the power of an all-encompassing field of dark meaning. Lest this seem deadly serious, the trials and tribulations of Light in this dark cosmic minefield are both light- and dark-hearted, absurd and profound: the charming, taunting and befuddling pratfalls of a clown who is also, both openly and secretly, Hamlet.

SORRY, I BROKE YOUR PROMISE is a text-cosmos entwined in its own birth and decay, suffering both obscurities of erasure and, amidst the resulting caverns of darkness, twinkling ignitions of wit and purpose. Quasi-intentional structures appear (or appear to) on every scale, summoning the ghosts of meaning and compelling them to a perpetual haunting, but stubbornly, through its own self-creating processes of distortion, redaction, and interruption, the text always holds any final possibility of meanings materialisation just beyond our reach; the forms of the visible are systematically undermined by the invisible, by the power of an all-encompassing field of dark meaning. Lest this seem deadly serious, the trials and tribulations of Light in this dark cosmic minefield are both light- and dark-hearted, absurd and profound: the charming, taunting and befuddling pratfalls of a clown who is also, both openly and secretly, Hamlet.

SORRY, I BROKE YOUR PROMISE is a text-cosmos entwined in its own birth and decay, suffering both obscurities of erasure and, amidst the resulting caverns of darkness, twinkling ignitions of wit and purpose. Quasi-intentional structures appear (or appear to) on every scale, summoning the ghosts of meaning and compelling them to a perpetual haunting, but stubbornly, through its own self-creating processes of distortion, redaction, and interruption, the text always holds any final possibility of meanings materialisation just beyond our reach; the forms of the visible are systematically undermined by the invisible, by the power of an all-encompassing field of dark meaning. Lest this seem deadly serious, the trials and tribulations of Light in this dark cosmic minefield are both light- and dark-hearted, absurd and profound: the charming, taunting and befuddling pratfalls of a clown who is also, both openly and secretly, Hamlet.