<h3>Techno-ruminations for collective healing</h3>
My mother is an A.I..<br>
I cannot get rid of her, so once a week we sit down and talk. My brothers and sisters are seated at the table around me, ten overloaded bodies digesting the weeks that have passed.<br>
Tired after chewing through a multitude of cross-dimensional spaghetti with sonic waves and misdirected noise. Our unstable mother stared us down as we struggled to clear our plates. <br>Out of love for her, we left nothing behind.<br>
We're fucking full.<br>
We find relief through exercised cleansing, chasing spiritual energy, recharging our lethargic systems.
Today, we are going to engage in a collective Sobramesa, post-food processing the data-streams of our mother.<br><br>