Missions of Palo Alto

Amnesia, in its weaponized form, descends gently onto the streets and fills the volume between buildings in waves of rolling silence. Nothing is spared as it settles into a breathless equilibrium, overwriting both past and present with equal measures of focused negation. Novelty evaporates and dimension collapses as a once brilliant panorama is compressed into an unrelenting singularity of monochrome. Even light is consumed in its omnidirectional maw, stripping the last traces of sensory weight from a landscape inverted with scalding precision.

Most of the inhabitants of this place have long since fled its corridors, and their absence lends a glimmer of decency to an indecent act. As a matter of abstract information, however, they remain keenly present—even lucid—and form a ghostly chorus that implies, explicitly, a message of both detached modesty and childlike narcissism: "Remember us. Know that we existed here, even as our window of time is replaced with an increasingly spurious prism of drifting hindsight. Everything that happened here was a misplaced note in a trampled melody. Remember all of it, and one day you'll be able to play it as it was meant to be heard."

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missions of palo alto


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