loan I take the title of a short work of Jean Baudrillard, "Simulacra and Simulation", because my lack of imagination did not allow me to find a proper title within a reasonable time.
And just because I have just talked about my absence (the fancy stuff is for the chosen few, the common people like me never had one before, it is known), the natural consequence of this statement is represented by a simple and unambiguous conclusion: Everything you read in this blog may not be the result of what they are lacking, so chances are good that my chronicles by sprawl are personal stories.
Maybe not by me, maybe by someone else. E 'irrelevant, anyway.
People like to read or watch things "taken from a true story." Frankly I never understood why, but I decided to adapt to this trend.
Why "by sprawl," these my chronicles? Why is the suburban sprawl subway where it's easier to meet the cowboys of cyberspace, the marginalized, traffickers of illusions in a nutshell, the lords of the allegories sold cheap digital ...
Where is easier to find fulfillment by an embrace the cheap, while the body-useless tinsel, call it-is elsewhere.
This, however, is useless tinsel our prison, I learned to live with it and you?
Well, I spoke of sprawl. William Ford Gibson has painted him as best I could never do, so if you just want to know what it is you read his trilogy of cyberspace:
Neuromancer Count Zero Mona Lisa Overdrive
Not necessarily in that order, indeed preferably not in that order.
I'm not here to give lessons on cyberpunk, I'm not here for any reason to tell the truth. This blog will pick up a bit 'of thoughts that roam in the network, my, someone else, some even without a source. But it's all true, believe it.
True how true a picture of you themselves, as true as true is your reflection in a mirror. True as it may be a significant orphan of its meaning. So much, in my opinion. Or maybe at all.
References will be declared, plagiarism is not an objective and a disgrace from which to flee.
gift to my readers (and you are already a lot, although I still do not know) Fragments of a Hologram Rose, hoping it will be a welcome gift. And do not you take your hand to accompany you in the mazes that wind in front of you from now on. I do not like physical contact, only for this, but pretend it is doing.
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