We find ourselves alone with an X made of living pixels. Get close to any pixel, and you'll see a blur, the outer  atmosphère  of a thought-ocean... put on your flippers and heat-shield, jump in, down down down shrinking and falling through the endless air-water-void, deeper into that thought, until suddenly you splash...     A la télévision, les morts ont promis que, pour le millénaire à venir, nous pourrions vivre en paix dans ce nouveau Monde.