the Zuckerberg Zion you will never find.

With every pixeled thought I share, my fingers type a step forward into the web-filled space between the peaks of aliens and kin. Caught in the heat of hesitation; amidst the push and the pull-- the intellectual innertia of wanting to be the all-knowing unknown traps my marrow in the valley of intimate strangers. Ambling unguided through this Infernal canto I, like 500 million, strain to subvert the human condition. "I will now feel less lonely. These words will bring closeness. These likes will make me liked. Here, I am understood." We want to be the object of another's wasted time; the update that gives us status. To (be)friend(ed) has taken the place of handshakesmilenod, though everyone is now the author (albeit abridged) of their own best-sold story. No Barnes&(expensive, and not so) Noble, no-- this book fills up the li(e)brary of every face you've never known. It is the book of refreshed quick looks. The book that will always be spark-noted/plot summaried/ back-covered/ever-referenced. The book of the current past and the twice passed-over. The book that is often read aloud but could never allow our hearts to be read.

And we walk through this valley looking up at formidable peaks.

But suddenly, it dawns upon me: I don't need to write a face to find my way, nor do I need to read one.


For I (we are) am already completely known.

I promise you are not alone.