Well, at first I thought I wasn’t going to show the following scribbles. After all, they are just scribbles, they have nothing in them, they are just a web of lines, on confluent spots of color. Or not? Do you think they make sense?
The truth is that old, orderly systems sooner or later become obsolete, lose their freshness, their contents become empty, and only an empty form is repeated to some boredom. And I break this shape into pieces like an ancient porcelain vase with a hammer.
I know it will never be the same again before. I sweep the pieces together and make a mosaic out of it, then pour some cans of paint on it, ignite it, and let it all burn into charcoal. In physical reality, this did not happen, but I experienced it many times in myself, in my soul.
Order is born of chaos, irregular oscillations become regular again after a while, but according to a different rhythm. The world is endless and terribly interesting, it can be unusual, bizarre, scary, but definitely appealing.
Maybe I formulated the titles awkwardly, wasting an hour on what name to give them.
Neural network
Bird's eye view
The moment
