One of the more interesting behaviors I have observed is this society’s increasing thirst for narcotics. Substances that, when ingested, propel your head upwards into the clouds. Your sense of self gets to leave your body for an undisclosed period of time. You might never come back, but more often than not, you do. And it’s this deliciously dangerous prospect that drives so many to consume these substances. Don’t we all love playing with fire?
Now, in this world, these substances were legal. You could buy yourself a time-out at every 7-Eleven. They even had self-service kiosks placed strategically around the city and advertisement posters plastering the walls of every café. The most popular brand was called "Miles High", a premium distributor with a glossy and high-end appearance.
It struck me as strange. Was this proof of a society free from stigmas and outdated drug laws, or was this a governmental practice of mass sedation? A way to keep everyone high and quiet? It’s hard to settle on a truth. That is because the truth, if it exists at all, is forever obscured from us observers. The longer you look, the more you come to realize that it just doesn’t exist. It’s not to be found down here, or up there in the clouds.
Taking these substances always made me homesick, as the lines between past and present blur. Memories resurface from a place I had long forgotten. A place I used to call home. Europe. A voice within me grows louder and louder, asking the age-old question: How do I get back?
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You are currently traversing the limitless expanses of Visual Fiction. Each narrative fragment in this collection unravels a memory of a man drawn into an alternate reality. With every piece, he steps deeper into the unknown, attempting to describe the indescribable, to paint the unseen, and to make sense of the senseless. These tales offer glimpses into bizarre worlds that can at times feel both intimately familiar and strangely threatening.
