Dark Matter

by Blake Crouch

I’m struck for a fleeting moment by the overwhelming sense of loss. Not grief or pain, but something more primal. A realization and the terror that follows it—terror of the limitless indifference surrounding us. I don’t know if that’s the intended takeaway from Daniela’s installation, but it’s certainly mine. We’re all just wandering through the tundra of our existence, assigning value to worthlessness, when all that we love and hate, all we believe in and fight for and kill for and die for is as meaningless as images projected onto Plexiglas.