Sunlight was our constant; the same cycling quality of light since the dawn of existence. We called it day, and it became one of our basic units for understanding time. In light's absence, fire filled the void. Huddled around the dancing flames our enchantment with the flicker began. The flicker is no longer orange, but blue - and we are the ashes of the monitor's burning image. The constant non-pattern of sunlight is replaced by the flickering ghost simulacra of the screen. Copies of copies of photons are transferred from wave to particle to wave to particle and bring blue ocean waves to suburban living rooms at 2 AM. Stoic screens leave us more connected to unnatural, flat celebrity faces than to our next-door-neighbors. From communal campfires to quiet streets of strangers watching strangers.

Flickering ghost simulacra is our new longing, the flicker is where comfort lies.