06.2024
Red Pyramid, Egypt



They rose and fell.
Neither flesh nor shadow, they hovered over the rose-tinted sands of Dahshur, silent forms of complexity sculpted by the desire to create life not yet born.
Below them – the Red Pyramid, the weight of centuries. Once clad in radiant light, now stripped to its reddish core. Built by Sneferu, reaching toward eternity, lucified by starlight already dead.
Within, corridors sank downward into the heart of life’s mystery. Three chambers arched upward, their walls shadowed by soot. Here, time and space fold and stretch.
Built to mystify, descending from the stars. There is no center, no edge. Inside, time thickens.
Bioisms float, neural, embryonic geometries, breathing above static stone, defying collapse.
They are weightless, unborn centuries, pulsating constellations, light trapped in fragile skin. They are idea, life imagined before it arrives.
What are these spaces?
What will yet evolve?
Are they before life, or after?
They rise, resisting the fall, pulled by gravity not of this earth, shimmering like equations not yet solved. They hover, translucent, above the chambers and corridors engineered to defy entropy. Time stretches, thin as desert air.
Space bends and expands.
Spacetime, a single being.