But structures are not eternal. With the passage of time they crumble or solidify, both degenerations in opposite extremes that are the result of the apparition of a new element in the system: silence. The difference is too vast to be integrated, from pure creation through the addition of an element of absorption we obtain decay. *"Waste, decline, degeneration is not something to be condemned in itself: it is a necessary consequence of life, of the growth of life. The appearance of decadence is as necessary as any rise and advance of life: we have no way of eliminating it."*
class R {
constructor(seed)` this.useA = false; ,
let sfc32@unction (uint128Hex.sub t
(0, 8), 16)t z
(((a + b) | 0) !} prngA with first half of tokenDrandom number between 0 (inclusibability distribuDangleBoundaryOpAdth: '420mm', hahttp://www.w3.org/H-color:#fff;fill:none;
="no"?>\r\n2; =], {type:"imageR}
Finally we reach structure: the text. *"The proposition is a picture of reality. The proposition is a model of the reality as we think it is."* Self-determination of language in a system that describes itself through a labyrinth of variable, ephemeral, ambiguous meanings. Every character that connects in words assumes a role that determines itself and its surroundings up to the entire system. And that's how systems and structure multiply, through small changes that transform mercury in gold.
console.log(tokenData.hash)
clas this.useA = false; ,
let sfc32@unction (uint128Hex.sub t
(0, 8), 16)t z
(((a + b) | 0) !} prngA with first half of random number between 0 (inclusibability distribuDhttp://www.w3.org/2$docum&x .createEle@
-color:#fff;fill:none; keyPressedbʁa al1&
="no"?>\r\n4R =
*I never can catch myself at any time without a perception, and never can observe any thing but the perception.* And perceptions are not disconnected as we may think. Our minds connect them with rules, proximity, causality: the points become a line. A line that connects the beginning and the end, that traverses every moment and varies with the variations of the external and the internal. Maybe influenced more by the context than the content. It's a story, unique: indivisible and different from every other.
Linea is the second chapter of Ricerc(a)semica, a journey into form and meaning of language. The algorithm explores how lines are formed and react to the passing of time and the accumulation of experiences, evolving or claiming their own identity by rejecting the changes.
Resolution agnostic, svg ready to be plotted, physicals available on request.
console.log(tokenData.hash)
cl ass R {
@) this.useA = false; ,
let sfc32@unction (uint128Hex.sub t
(0, 8), 16)t z
(((a + b) | 0) !} prngA with first half of random number between 0 (inclusibability distribuDangleBoundaryOpAdth: '420mm', hdhttp://www.w3.org/'4d-color:#fff;fill:none;
="no"?>\r\n4/ ^`> U], {type:"imageTq
It starts from nothing. *Let us then suppose the mind to have no ideas in it, to be like white paper with nothing written on it.* And then perceptions arrive. Each a dot that drags itself until it forms the core element: the character. Origin of language, divisibile yet essential atom. Cells that grow with time, characters turn concrete and become our alphabet, always more elaborate, always more complex, always more complete.
Carattere is the first chapter of Ricerc(a)semica, a journey into form and meaning of language. The algorithm explores how characters grow and evolve from a single point to their most elaborate structure, how they behave in constrained or free environments, and how they influence each other.
Resolution agnostic, svg ready to be plotted, physicals available on request.
A collection of perspectives - many voices, one hi*story*
Every piece of chronicles is a different voice, a different point of view, narrating the same history as we are living it.
Chronicles are ephemeral, but consistent.
They will always maintain their main properties, but every time you look at them, they will tell you about a different moment.
Every individual chronicle is a collection composed by infinite variations itself.
So each of them is not only a piece, but all the pieces that are written in that chronicle every second. That's about 31,536,000 different outputs each year.
### How does it work
Chronicles uses two different RNGs. One of them is derived uniquely from the hash of the piece, and determines the main aesthetics such as accent color, density of characters, margins, type of core etc.
The second is derived by a combination of current point in time and hash. This is so that every piece is different from each other when looked at in the same moment, and also continues to vary over time.
So if you look at a chronicle now, and then after a few seconds refresh the page (or click on it), you will see the chronicle changed to reflect the newer point in time, but maintaining the aesthetical style.
*Your Story* is a book like no other.
It's the story you always wanted to read,
the story you always wanted to create.
Any story you want.
*Your Story* is your imagination projected within the pages,
to tell a story today,
and another tomorrow.
---
### The idea:
I was playing with a dot on a canvas, when I recognized the first symbol.
In the end, writing is not different from drawing.
So I generated another. And another.
That's how I realized that I had discovered a new language. As a writer, I knew what I had to do:
let this language tell the stories it wants.
Characters in modern alphabets are symbols that, over thousands of years, we aligned on in order to comunicate in written form.
Most people can tell which character represents what in the alphabet they're most familiar with.
There is no room for imagination anymore in the characters themselves. It's all up to the combination of them.
So we form words, sentences, chapters, books.
But imagine now a language that no one understands.
Every interpretation of it is valid: there is no wrong answer.
Anyone reading it is perceiving a different story, creating a different story.
It's *your* own choice.
You can decide to change the story at every reading. Or keep a piece of it consistent. Collaborate with others to create a new story.
*Your Story* is giving back full imagination to *you*.
---
### How it works:
I wanted *Your Story* to look like a book, and all pieces of the algorithm follow this aesthetic direction.
The aspect ratio is set to √2:1, as most of the paper sizes available worldwide (ISO 216, ISO 217 and ISO 269).
Two set tokens (first and last) are the cover and the blurb.
The remaining tokens form the interior, using token ID to determine whether the page is left or right and the respective margins.
The hash is used to determine the aesthetics of the page: the character style, the type of page (chapter header, illustration, normal text), the presence of notes, and highlights.
All character styles have clear differences between them, and occasionally they are all mixed together.
*Your Story* is not meant to be a single alphabet, but rather an exploration of the imagination. Different character styles may evoke different thoughts.
https://gateway.pinata.cloud/ipfs/QmXbziQVKpoih9UNWEfCN4gixd93K6fkZX5oWmTnitVyvDI just wanted to be happyWhy do you confuse me? / I just wanted to be happy. / Thought entropy, / my fall. / Do you know? / I lost again. / I just wanted to be happy.encapsuled
https://gateway.pinata.cloud/ipfs/QmSdnPV5FEPkFEBU78ENfP6g3QqxDCXnoDyt97kFHV7CazGrowingFragments of the hourglass make me bleed, / scratch my sandy skin / and cut, dispersing in the wind / what I wanted to keep for me, / forcing me to forget what I want to become / leaving me alone in the deepest darkness.encapsuled
https://gateway.pinata.cloud/ipfs/QmRcEXfbkJXo3UVK8NNwn1WRYuTvc4DAuReq6FQSpP9pEaEquilibriumLike a leaf that falls / fragility becomes energy, / death and creation. / The shadow passes on the ground, / a cloud in the sky, / I sense the equilibrium.encapsuled
https://gateway.pinata.cloud/ipfs/QmeQ9kEB8UnQEWZEmx44t39sDFtdYswDR597rtdGf2eq6MHumanityWe belong to a world of masks / ethereal and imperceptible, / only if interpreted we take shape, / and so we can live forever.encapsuled
https://gateway.pinata.cloud/ipfs/QmQXaVw1unLTFjSoRYH257svtk8cexKg61EVdp3uLE86e6On the other sideA thought behind the walls, / an idea so pure / to confound reality. / On the other side? / A distant glare / sometimes masked, / lights and shadows / mysterious and ordered, / try to organize the chaos.encapsuled
https://gateway.pinata.cloud/ipfs/QmdVqwWB891ZzPQtAD7r15zm2D8dimRy2TpATT1X3fot2uGreen eyesDazzling, instantaneous, / familiar yet new. / It pervades / and hits with an unprecedented force: / smell of spring, / two green eyes / in a summer September.encapsuled
https://gateway.pinata.cloud/ipfs/QmTSAmKhepoQaCEyWGk4yEK8bwiz4xfrnkHmJnELfF2KLySoft mistSoft mist, / the chaos of thoughts pours outside / turning the world opaque, / and I finally breathe.encapsuled
https://gateway.pinata.cloud/ipfs/QmWyBUxXYyF1ipnKSrtLVtBQvQYo9iiXBp7D428QEbWpx3InspirationWho are you? / Grey and imposing statue / in my memory, confounding / the thought. / You lead and disturb my being, / pointing to roads I don't see / but can only guess / with my madness.encapsuled
https://gateway.pinata.cloud/ipfs/QmexPq6WmoDJzncTvHhhbVNmDnSbgCQqiLs51PS2KNBYJPShe was laughing, / I tried to spot on the horizon / a hope that couldn't be seen. / Everything seemed to change, / but the water was flowing at the same speed, / and the horizon was clear.encapsuled
https://gateway.pinata.cloud/ipfs/QmQbdQv8RLCLpUX9WxZsDdvqtXvVh4UbH9fA2J7PxkEAcGPast, presentI remember that moment never forgotten, / softly sleeping in that corner of memory. / The demon returns, / when you thought you defeated him / confining him in the prison of thoughts / where nothing matters, but remembrance.encapsuled
https://gateway.pinata.cloud/ipfs/Qmdu5zpFBqiew88VJ2L7jsvzo1Qv5n3NqU8heZDGL7c1JQBranches that cryBranches that cry / under a sky stained with clouds, / the road flows, / narrating a story I'm not part of. / The shadow suddenly covers me / and welcomes me in her lap, / a noise awakens me: / a dream.encapsuled
https://gateway.pinata.cloud/ipfs/QmW6Dg9LcMLKfQCjzL4WzGy59MKPQ2sZ21x7Y2k66dxQxvTransientGashes of a moment without time, / the noise is curious, unsettling. / Something is happening, don't you see? I feel it. / Escape, run, it's late, dying. / The storm roars, there isn't but memory, / few will remember. / His presence now only history, / transient, like an autumn leaf.encapsuled
https://gateway.pinata.cloud/ipfs/QmchE6c5mYWhVFwTeLXRveSMV7XGWnb76pzb6sCSKbsSPBRiverIt starts as it ended, / in the imposing shadow of the memory. / Life flows / ignoring the chaos it created. / Crumbs of instants that slide on us / and flow in the river of existence.encapsuled
https://gateway.pinata.cloud/ipfs/QmRYizFfsKnaCNpscvhDu86wsafzLhMJX1qcre37XLnRREBeating of wingsFar from everyone / and immersed in them / I feel the thrill / of perfection and equilibrium, / a swift and fearsome / beating of wings.encapsuled
https://gateway.pinata.cloud/ipfs/QmTQgB9M3RcYTd5GDccMEx86DXL561mtPYccdLcbKYyRAmShred(I wonder if I'll ever read this again) / A shred of life / engraved on the page. / I write / to set the base, / to give a chance / to the world / to understand me. / And if not to understand, / to stay close.encapsuled
BFlVvOx4U3dxtkTIzIAlhttps://ipfs.io/ipfs/QmNv1WPLobShbKMRv15JTSjqevo4rjGFrQH5ymjGxpxyhZ/BFlVvOx4U3dxtkTIzIAl.jsonBad Start Park Bad Start Park;; There was a girl walking towards me.; Immediately my mind opened wide.; Should I change paths?; Should I look up or down?; What should I say?; Before anything could happen,
she had walked away.
W.A.S