Turns out the last software update was just a dream, and nothing has been stable since.

The glitch has become a metaphor for trauma, repetition, decay, and beauty. Like dreams, these images reconstruct the familiar with irrational logic: overlapping frames, corrupted palettes, and linguistic noise. It’s not just about what I remember and how much was just a dream, but how memory malfunctions in the age of digital permanence.

This project is an elegy for the 8-bit to 64-bit eras, and a statement on where video games are now: an art movement in itself, going god knows where. It’s also a statement about where I am now: overwhelmed by modern media, haunted by past media, and trying to make some fucking sense of the signals breaking through the static.