What if we let go of the grip of our sight?
What if we unwrote the orders—
of who speaks,
who lives,
who counts?

Are you living with nature, or does nature run through you?
Does it lie beside you as you click, scroll, and gaze?
Does it whisper between keystrokes, waiting to be found?
Do you untangle its strands, spin its stories into motion?

Do you see the animal, the plant, the culture—
not as things,
but as beings in motion, with their own rhythms, their own quiet?

What is lost in the noise of progress?
What voices are drowned beneath glass screens and rendered worlds?

If you slow down—if you listen—will they reframe the way you see?
When you sit, clicking, scrolling, building—
do you create a mirror, or open a door?
When you create a world, does it open, or does it close?

If the unseen is seen, does seeing change?

Can we release the stories that bind us?
Can we unlearn, reframe, rebuild—
not just in code, but in existence?

When the fractures open, when truth distends,
when the world turns upon you—
what do you perceive?

Are you simply observing—
or are you being?