Now it turns out The Musician has already visited the room on the sea floor which he *thought* lies directly below the large black one above the water, spied from the chair he was just sitting in to the west. But he sees it in a new light now. The brain again…
… with a different part pinned, the front part. “Emotion”. Being a mental creature, The Musician has some trouble understanding emotions. The red pin here punctures a small heart on the diagram. Did The Artist put this heart there herself?
No hole in the roof of this particular room, unlike so many others. Night sky instead… fake opening. And sky on the floor as well.
The shallow, empty gorge he just traveled leads directly to its front door. The Artist obviously wanted you to visit.
The stairs are rusty.
*There’s* the rooms he wished to visit. To the south.
He better get to it.
More rusty stairs. Which to choose?
White first. He had trouble sitting on the single pose ball within because of the rain prim, but finally managed.
Ahh yes: rain. Let’s turn up that particle count! Facing upwards, completely liberated from the sea (but still wet). Let’s check out the black room…
Yes, a familiar sight for me because of my January visit to Art Oluja’s mainland property at Wyrd. “Sophie’s World”, page 59. Jar — see through. Black out poetry. “life… in a jar… It is extraordinary”.
The Musician hadn’t thought of it before, but these various rooms with their openings could also represent jars. But why glass, then? Is it that everything we do is being examined by others whether we know it or not? We all live in a glass jar, like the proverbial glass house whose resident must dress in the basement. But is there a basement here? Is it the sea itself?
The Musician must figure this out! (But at the same time realizes he can’t.)