MIND OCEAN SPACE issue 1

MIND OCEAN SPACE

Editor’s Note

MIND OCEAN SPACE is a new multimedia magazine. It is a publication exploring the frontiers of human knowledge and existence, which is where it got its name.

The idea of the mind, the ocean, and space as ‘frontiers’ was developed in late 2019 whilst walking home along Cambie street in Vancouver from The Joker film with my friend Oscar. However, it was not until mid-2022 that the thought of turn ing this idea into a publication came about.

During the coronavirus pandemic, my friends and I absorbed and produced a lot of creative content, with nowhere to pub lish or share it. The concept of the magazine is to help us un derstand and develop an interdisciplinary view on the world around us using art and science—two things I love, but that rarely get to meet under one roof. I hope it will be a place for sharing interesting things, creative things, funny things, and beautiful things.

Submissions are accepted on a rolling basis. You should con tribute if you have something to say: an invention, a passion, a creation, or an idea. The digital format will allow for flexibility in media types, and readers are able to order individual copies at printing cost. We’ve received poetry, photographs, digital art, essays, short stories, music albums, and pieces of scientific research. Please get in touch if you are interested in submitting a piece.

Email: mind.ocean.space@gmail.com

Instagram: @mind.ocean.space

Thought, cognition, emotion, human experience, psyche, soul. How do we exist in and per ceive the world around us? Delve into my brain, imagine the colours only I can see. My mind is a beehive and every letter counts.

The actual ocean, or a metaphor for all that the natural world encompasses. We may explore, exploit and experiment with Mother Nature, but never should we expect to conquer her. What does the deepest part of the ocean look like? You tell me.

MIND OCEAN SPACE

Outer space, technology, the Universe and the Milky Way. A smattering of stars, the bright and dark sides of the moons, music to my ears + other miscellaneous things. What are you wearing, what are you listening to? Tell me more—a space for exploration.

OCEAN SPACE

Managing Editor & Contributor Noa Amson

Cover Art Be Nice Signs @be.nice.signs

Layout & Design Cole Cooper

Contributors

Timothy Andrews

Saja Badusa

Tagget Bonham-Carter

Thea Bryant

Sophie Edwards

Miriam Elhajli

Panos Giannadakis

Alanna Grogan

Louise Hall

Franz Hildebrandt-Harangozó

Nikola Kolev

Oscar Morgan

Tevin Muendo

Duc Vinh Nguyen

Csecs Norbert

David O’Connor

Johannes Pfahler

Camila Posada

Kiera Saunders

Erin Tattersall

Lindsay Tattersall

Carla Theuring

Liam Vandewalle

Shelan Zaynah

Featuring

Good Clean Fun

Heavy Petal Brand Bubble Music London Reuben Cantacuzino

MIND OCEAN SPACE

MOS ISSUE

Editor’s Note...........II Frontiers Intro..........III Contributors..........IV

MIND.........01

Chipped Tooth..........02

It’s Okay Not to Think..........08

Your Brain on Drug X: DMT..........09 Seamus Heaney Portrait..........11 Drip..........12

Philosophical Dimensions of Bins..........15 Emily..........17 Elegy For Lungs..........18

A Creation Recipe: The Uncertainty of Signs..........21

Fix Your Ontology..........23

Captured by Captions / The Shop..........27

Living With Artists (Chapter One)..........29

OCEAN.........35

Nighttime on Gambier Island / Sea-through..........36

The Beach (Strand)..........37 Regenbogenforelle/Braunforelle..........39

To the South Shore..........40

Evolutionism: A Short Intro..........41 Veil..........44

Yayoi K. Meets the Natural World..........45

Afloat and afar, love is home..........49 Ecology of the Anthropocene..........51 Photography & Media by Timothy Andrews..........53

SPACE.........56

A Review of Berlin, A Novel by Bea Setton..........57 Musings on Soda Bread..........58

Black Holes ..........59

Quantum Tunnelling..........64 Stars..........67

Function, Algorithm, Implementation..........68

Good Clean Fun..........73

Heavy Petal Brand..........76 Bubble Music London..........77 Moshup App..........81

Cuzino Music..........83 Astrology Today..........85

MIND

CHIPPED TOOTH

Noa Amson | Noa enjoys writing and ed iting in her free time. She currently studies and lives in Glasgow, Scotland.

Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.

I ran my tongue over the exterior lamina of my front right tooth. There it was, the little indent. Bottom exterior corner, where I had bitten down hard into a fork earlier that day. The mirror and a sensitive spot when eating my next forkful of curry (a nondescript saag paneer over basmati rice left over from the night before—I hadn’t even bothered to heat it up. Cold, green, and creamy, with stringy bits from the cooked spinach. A student masterpiece) confirmed that a large chip had been taken from my enamel. I ran my tongue over it again and again as sweat per meated every item of clothing I was wear ing: a bralette, a long sleeve black synthetic blend, an icebreaker half zip, a leather jack et. My scarf flapped aimlessly around my neck, where windward hairs were sticking to my perspiring chin under the chinstrap of my helmet. With each pedal stroke I ex uded more heat and lamented my choice of outfit, but stopping to de-layer would mean

wasting valuable time. The hill I was cycling up was lined by Soviet-looking tower blocks of flats and stretched out in front of me like a menacingly positioned rook on a chess board. I knew it wasn’t actually that steep, but I hadn’t cycled in ages and so my over stuffed backpack (containing a laptop, text books) combined with fear and apprehen sion surrounding the upcoming procedure all weighed me down. But the adrenaline was picking me up. I was barrelling down the highway on my screeching bike in the wilds of Scotland, somewhere between the suburban countryside metropolises of Nigel House and East Motherhill. Massive trucks containing oats, North sea oil and tinned haggis whistled by me, only inches from my gasping lungs. I was shitting myself, I was afraid. But I was on a high. You know that feeling. It sometimes feels really good and exhilarating to do some fucked up shit.

The line ‘How did I get here?’ from a song by the Talking Heads reverberated in my ears like howls in an echo chamber. This strange position of sweating my (non-exis tent) balls out, riding a bottom-of-the-line road bike on a motorway unknown to me,

using one hand to phone-navigate, the other to steer and brake should anything ‘danger ous’ arise. How this uncomfortable 20-mile cycle came to be during what should have been the heat of my revision period is what I will explain in the coming paragraphs.

As previously covered: I chipped the tooth by biting into a forkful of lunch curry whilst revising lymphatic organ anatomy. In be tween the spleen and the thymus, there went the fork and my piece of tooth with it. I swal lowed the chunk and proceeded to spend the rest of the afternoon being intermittent ly anxious about the piece of ivory sizzling away in my gastrointestinal tract. Would the HCl in my stomach be enough to break it down, would it go straight through me? Or would it cause some sort of intestinal occlu sion the consequences of which I couldn’t even imagine (mostly because I can’t re member the first-line treatment for intesti nal occlusions). I thought about the piece of enamel hissing like a snake in the cardia of my stomach full of gastric acid. My fear of dentists meant that I was apprehensive about going to some random practitioner about my chip. They might mess it up, and worse, they would see the inside of my mouth and therefore the state of the wear on my teeth. A traumatic experience from when I was 17: ‘Wow, you’re really a grinder aren’t you. Se vere damage on all upper and lower molars and bicuspids. I’ve never seen someone your age with such little tooth left.’

I googled ‘dental practice glasgow’ and rang the first one that popped up. The receptionist was unprofessional and the cost was so pro hibitively expensive that I was repulsed and slightly terrified at the idea of anyone from that establishment fixing my tooth. ‘Hi there,

OCEAN SPACE

my name is Louie Cardell. I’ve just chipped my front tooth. I’d like to please book an appointment as soon as possible to have it fixed,’ to which she replied ‘Hi Mr. Cardell, so what would you like done?’ There was heavy rustling in the background, making it difficult for me to decipher what she was say ing. I corrected her that I was actually Miss Cardell even though my name was unisex (Haha! A common mistake!), and repeated that my issue was about a chipped tooth. She started babbling on about a root canal and a booking fee of 50 pounds, followed by a consultation fee of 90 pounds, and all that of course before the actual cost of the rep aration of 135 pounds. ‘Let’s book you in Sir, for a root canal in 2 weeks’ time then?’ At this point I was tired of explaining myself and had already lost faith in the establish ment, and so I thanked her for her time and hung up. How could a good dentist possi bly hire such a poor receptionist? Intelligent, competent people do not hire incompetent staff. I felt the divot again with my tongue. My heart beat a little faster, like the heart of a rabbit does when the rabbit is being ‘lov ingly squeezed’ by a small child. Why had I bitten down on my fork? Why was I in such a rush to finish the bloody curry?

Anecdotes learned during my days as a horse girl flitted through my mind. ‘People will try and sell you old horses in good condition, but they’ll be overpriced for what they are. The only way to truly tell a horse’s age is by looking at its teeth.’ I imagined being an old horse, able to trick my future owners into thinking I am something that I am not. ‘Nev er look a gift horse in the mouth’, they say. ‘She’s not who she claims she is’, they say. I pictured myself sitting down in that leanedback chair, the dentist examining my worn

molars, as he gave me a liquid Valium to sip on. It tasted like red Kool-Aid. Shiny, plump cherries of the deepest hue of red. I still re member the feeling of it kicking in– like a smooth, cool stream slipping over my body and my mind. ‘The jig is up!’ I shuddered these thoughts away.

Then I remembered: my friend’s father was a dentist. I messaged Bethany to ask her for his details. She replied nearly immediately, after which I proceeded to do my ‘research.’ This consisted of Googling his practice and academic trajectory in the profession, most ly to check that no dentistry lawsuits had been filed against him. He’d actually won a few Scottish dentistry awards. I wondered what this meant for the future of oral health in Scotland; I had recently read a statistic that one quarter of Scots had lost at least 12 teeth. Perhaps if they’d had Dr. McInnis looking after theirs, they would have man aged to retain more of their pearly whites?

Also, the clinic’s website was very profes sional. It wasn’t a WordPress site with spell ing mistakes and grammatical errors like the website of the practice I’d phoned earlier. Bethany sent me another message to explain that he was extremely busy, with a 6-month waiting list, but that she could ask if he had time to ‘squeeze me in.’ Squeeze me tighter Children, rabbits.

Bethany told me to be ’at the ready’ for an appointment at 17.30. I started making my way to East Motherhill. I cycled to Glasgow Central clad in a black leather jacket and black Dickies trousers, with my waterproof backpack full of revision materials ready to get shit done on the train. A very Glaswegian drizzle and mist hung in the air. I listened to Afro B’s ‘Joanna’ in my AirPods as I navigat ed my way through the station. The outing broke up the monotony of studying; it was exciting to have somewhere to be. As soon as I sat down in the train I was struck by a wave of panic. Even if it was Bethany’s father who fixed the tooth, it meant that he would know, which is nearly worse than a total stranger knowing. I knew that dentists see this kind of thing often. Perhaps they are the only ones who can see the damage that my mind has inflicted on my body. Evidence. Habits from a much darker time in my life had caused this wear. He might be a truth teller, I thought. All dentists could be, I thought.

I replied to her message with an ecstatic ‘yes!’ and followed up with appropriate levels of gushing and thank yous. Hopefully he’d be able to see me sometime before the week end. I imagined future compliments from an imaginary boyfriend’s mother: ‘You have great dance moves, and a lovely smile.’ My tooth would be whole again soon.

My mum used to tell me, if you don’t brush your teeth they will all fall out, like Chiclets. Chi clets are multicoloured, candy-coated piec es of rectangular chewing gum that come in square packages. Pink, orange, green. Children get them trick-or-treating at Halloween. The pieces get shaken around in their boxes, and they sound like maracas. They make me think of colourful day of the dead celebra tions, of candy corn, of skulls with missing molars. I thought about my teeth turning these colours, first at the edges before greying right into the centre of each tooth. My gingi val tissue becoming loose and flappy. Disco gums, the teeth all fall out. Like Chiclets.

I was torn between my conflicting fears—one surrounding my past, the secrets of which

could be found in my mouth, and one sur rounding the integrity of my future tooth. I weighed the consequences of people know ing with those of leaving the chip unfixed to eventually rot away in my skull.

I distracted myself with revision of the neph ron. The glomerulus, Bowman’s capsule, the proximal and distal convoluted tubules. The loop of Henle and its countercurrent multi plier. What the normal Glomerular Filtration Rate was, the first line treatment for acute nephrotic syndrome with proteinuria. I wore my glasses without removing my helmet and stared at my laptop. My spirits soared to new heights. Ahh, to be young and free! I didn’t know if it was a high or a low, so I messaged Katie (because yes, as a child of the digital era, I am constantly in contact with at least my closest friends) and asked her what she thought. ‘Definitely a high. You would know if it were a low,’ she said. Just as I was finish ing with the nephron, the train screeched to an abrupt stop. I played ‘Don’t gas me’ by Dizzee Rascal in my Airpods. The song end ed. An announcement came on: ‘Due to a network failure in Nigel House, this train will no longer be traveling to our original desti nation of East Motherhill. All passengers are kindly asked to alight from this train.’

I got off the train and took in my surround ings: barbed wire fences and government signs. The station itself was peculiar; a mas sive, prison-resembling building far from the madding crowd. A handwritten sign on the door indicated that the station was in the process of being decommissioned so please do not touch the rubble. It felt completely emp ty. Nigel House was not remote in the way of mountains only accessible by helicopter in Alaska, but somehow felt so. Its oddly

OCEAN SPACE

square and incoherent (for both its func tion and location) architecture made it feel removed by both space and time from the world in which I spend most of my time. The chip all of a sudden took precedent in my mind again—it was feeling even big ger, grander than it had before. I imagined my entire mouth turning black, each tooth turning the colour of charcoal, the way trees look after forest fires burn the foliage they are normally dressed with, leaving only blanched trunks and charred black tops. I pictured myself in this forest, standing up in a sea of huge singed matchsticks. They were so impressively tall and bare and damaged. No leaf could possibly grow again on those branches. I would open my mouth, and they would know. Bare and vulnerable. We all have secrets, and mine is my mouth.

I checked the time of the next train for East Motherhill—I would arrive by 18.30. I sat in disbelief. A departure time that would normally put me at my destination an hour ahead of schedule was now going to get me there an hour and a half late. The practice would be closed, and more importantly, my tooth would remain broken.

The Glasgwegian drizzle from earlier had stopped, and I started to feel the sun heat ing up my leather jacket. The ball of anxi ety in my stomach surrounding the chipped tooth re-emerged: I had swallowed a solid chunk of Calcium phosphate. Would it give me kidney stones? I also hadn’t had anything to drink other than a giant mug of instant decaffeinated coffee with oat milk, which I’d sipped on alongside my curry prior to leav ing the flat. I didn’t think to bring water with me because I’m usually like a desert-inhabit ing camel in Petra; even without a hydration

hump, I am seemingly able to go for days without fresh drinking water, surviving on only hot brown drinks like tea, coffee, and Ovaltine. However, I was suddenly feeling very thirsty. My tongue was dry and fuzzy against my cheeks, conjuring the desiccated apricots of my childhood. Orange, wrinkled and gummy. Yum.

After re-checking Google maps for public transportation journeys, I began cycling as I realised that every minute elapsed was a min ute lost. I made a right turn onto the 4-lane dual carriageway, unaware this would be one of the more pleasant roads I would cycle that day. Google maps was saying that it would be 17 miles, or 1 hour and 48 minutes by bicycle. I decided to pass back through Nigel House in case there was a spontaneous train going to Glasgow because I had not yet men tally committed to the idea of cycling (which was in fact a terrible idea and ended up only adding more time due to construction and dead ends). My front wheel was rubbing against the brake pad and my inner tube had popped out, causing the tire to bulge a little.

I played out all the possible scenarios in my head. Not going to the dentist at all meant keeping my secret past hidden in plain sight, with the only immediately visible proof be ing a medium-sized chip on my front right tooth. And if I went…they would know. Who would they tell? How would I be punished? I pushed these thoughts away and focused on the problem at hand—any time spent de ciding was ticking away precious time. I felt my chipped tooth with my tongue, I thought about the incompetent receptionist from earlier than day at another dental practice. HA! As if such incompetent swine were get ting anywhere near my teeth. I was going to cycle to East Motherhill.

I took off—in the wrong direction. About half a mile in I had to turn around, just in time to hit rush hour traffic and construc tion queues. The bulldozers and asphalting machines spat their black smoke at me as I ran over their gravelly debris and prayed that I wouldn’t get a flat. I started heavily per spiring under all my layers of clothes and the leather jacket. And the backpack. The sun had burned off the grey from earlier in the morning and now a very un-Glaswegian sun was beating down on my heavily-clad body, despite darker clouds ominously lin ing the edges of the sky. My phone stayed in my right hand for navigation, and Android Siri would always tell me just too late about the slight left I had to make, or which round about exit was the correct one. I was mostly on extremely busy roads, dual carriageways with cars honking at me to get off to the side. I ignored them. Maps kept telling me to take a slightly longer route, which I wanted to avoid at all costs. “Shorter!” I exclaimed to Android Siri. My hair was plastered to my face and neck and chin now, all my crevasses were sweaty. It felt freeing in some way to be using my body in a non-obsolete, useful way: for the sake of transport. My legs were start ing to tire but adrenaline pumped through my body. Cars on either side of me, slight right, bump bump bump the sound of my brake pad rubbing on the bulge. Oh boy. Here we are, entering an on-ramp...onto the motorway? That couldn’t be right. Yet here I was, there we were, my bike and I, getting on the motorway with the big boys.

‘What am I doing here,’ I thought to myself. All of the sudden I was 17 again, in the den tist’s chair, an unfriendly hygienist sticking instruments in my mouth and poking around as if looking for clues. The Valium I had taken

was just kicking in, I was fading in and out of consciousness (‘a state in which the patient is alert, awake, and responsive to stimuli’). The medication was making me tread the thin line between being aware of what is going on around me while appearing to be passed the fuck out. I could hear them discussing the wear on my molars, but their voices were fading out, getting quieter and quieter. The dark clouds at the sky’s borders were blown away, and I was bathed in only yellow light. My head was weightless, I drifted above my body, I watched my self from above, I saw my thoughts without experiencing them—‘HAAAAAAAANNNK!’— My daydream was abruptly interrupted by a lorry honking as it sped by. The Doppler effect caused its volume to amplify as it approached me before dropping to a disproportionate and asymmetrical low once it had passed. ‘Shit,’ I thought. I could see a body of water nearby, where Google had been trying to direct me. I finally understood why Android Siri had been adamant about taking the longer route.

I exited the motorway, unscathed but shellshocked from the experience, to join the Strathclyde Lochside path. It was beautiful, the sun was shining, I could feel myself getting a nice tan on my cheeks and nose. I felt my tooth again, kept sweating. Eventually I got onto a road that snaked up beside the highway, following its every turn but ultimately taking me to the same place. This road was pretty, single-lane, and mostly car-free. Cows and goats on the side of the road, flowers, a farm shop, some horses grazing on white and purple clover. This is how I had pictured the United Kingdom of Great Britain in Jane Austen’s novels. It was beautiful. The clicking of my bike and the sounds of my laboured breathing faded away for a minute. I basked in bliss. I felt fleetingly but overwhelmingly that the world was a serene place of beauty and peace, that everything was going to be okay. The feeling was all that mattered.

When I finally rejoined the real world at a roundabout that crossed the highway, I had made it to East Motherhill. I realised I was actually going to be early and so I moseyed through a com munity park, gliding along on my click click clickety rickety bike. Oh, how I loved this bicycle. Old faithful got me here in one piece. I arrived at the practice, and a friendly middle-aged man in scrubs greeted me. It was definitely Dr. McInnis because Bethany looked just like him. ‘How was the ride?’ he asked me. ‘Oh, lovely,’ I told him. ‘A bit spontaneous.’ He smiled and said something about stretching my legs. I parked the bicycle near the bins (no lock) and proceeded to go wait and feel thirsty in the waiting room, maskless while everyone else wore a mask, until I could bear it no longer. I approached the receptionist, a lovely round woman, to ask her if I could please get a drink of water. She couldn’t believe I’d cycled all the way there from Nigel House. ‘I cannae believe you’ve come with yae bike! I’ve ne’er seen someone arrive by bicycle fae so far away.’ I must’ve looked desperate because she acquiesced without a fuss despite the water dispenser being technically out of service due to Covid. I sat down, relieved, drank from my tiny disposable plastic cup. The jig is up. I had made it.

IT’S OK NOT TO THINK

When my head hurts so much I can’t tell which way is up and my pillow cannot seem to be deep or soft enough to accommodate my mind in its entirety

The walls of my bedroom become a border beyond which I cannot penetrate, and do not matter anyway Everything is happening in this room

Every thing

Me, tiny fleck in this universe

A molecule of water in the vastness of the ocean

A grain of sand

Tumbling in a direction chosen only by its surrounding environment

Feeling so small

Thoughts rushing in, out squeezing between and beside one another

Like a traffic jam happening at breakneck speed

Like one of those timelapses you see about a nameless city in China, integrating its new transit solutions

Except for the city is your brain

The transit solutions are your thoughts

And the overwhelming busyness is the fact that you won’t be sleeping much more tonight

But the good thing is that there is an inextricable link between the body and the mind

By occupying your physical medium, your brain can be distracted from itself

Focus on your breath

In, out Get lost in your work

It’s okay not to think

YOUR BRAIN ON DRUG X: DMT

Shelan Zaynah | Shelan is a PhD student in psychedelic research at University College London.

What exactly is N, N-Dimethyltryptamine (commonly known as DMT) and why all the hype?

DMT is classified as a ‘classical’ psychedelic and is one of the only psychedelics to have been found endogenously—naturally present within the human body. Trace amounts have been identified in the brain, blood, and cerebrospinal fluid. DMT is rapidly broken down by Monoamine Oxidase-A (MAO) enzymes, which explains why it has only been found in small quantities.

In nature, however, DMT is found in abundance. It is the active component of ayahuasca, a number of tisanes (a.k.a. herbal brews), and snuffs. DMT was first synthesised in the lab oratory by Canadian chemist Richard Manske in 1931 before being discovered in plants by Oswaldo Gonçalves de Lima in 1946. It was finally tested on humans by Hungarian chemist Stephen Szara in 1956 by means of extracting and administering it to himself (which would definitely not meet today’s rigorous safety and ethics standards).

Despite its late introduction to the Western world, this powerful hallucinogenic compound has been used for centuries in Central and South America during religious ceremonies. For peo ples indigenous to the Amazon, DMT is seen as a form of medicine and thus is also a staple of healing ceremonies. The leaves of the Psychotria viridis are rich in DMT and prepared for con sumption by combining them with those of the plant Banisteriopsis caapi as it contains MAO enzyme inhibitors, thus prolonging the effects of DMT by slowing down its degradation.

So what does being on DMT feel like? Although no two experiences are the same, a gen eralisation that can be made is that one will experience intense and profound visual and/or auditory distortions whilst under the influence. Users have reported intense feelings of con sciousness, an interconnectedness with the universe and the breakdown of all reference points and identity. Words that have been used to describe experiences with DMT are ‘weightless,’ ‘oneness,’ and ‘connectedness.’ DMT trips can be perceived as being very long, but in reality the average DMT experience lasts only 20 minutes.

DMT exerts its effects primarily through binding to the 5-HT2A serotonin receptors. It is also known to act on the sigma-1 receptor, but the effects of DMT action on this receptor are not well understood.

Why the big fascination with DMT then? Psychedelics are currently at the forefront of a lot of mental health research. If you haven’t already heard (though if you’ve ever opened

The Guardian, Scientific American, or any other pop science news publication, you probably have), we’re in the midst of a psychedelic renaissance. Research has shown improvements in mental well-being and perspective after DMT consumption, and it is thought that these pos itive changes are long-lasting. DMT has been found to increase neuroplasticity (the ability of the brain to change/adapt as a result of experiences) which may be the reason for its observed long-term beneficial effects.

Alright, shameless plug time—enter the UNITy project: UNITy stands for ‘Understanding Neuroplasticity Induced by Tryptamines.’ FYI, tryptamines are the class of psychedelics to which DMT belongs. The overarching goal of UNITy is to explore which brain networks be come plastic after DMT consumption, leading to positive changes in well-being. Plasticity has yet to be linked to subsequent changes in well-being in any of these real-world brain networks, and the UNITy Project will be the first to do so both in adults who are healthy and, building on our prior work, those who drink harmful amounts of alcohol. The UNITy Team will accom plish this using functional Magnetic Resonance Imaging (fMRI) to scan the brains of healthy and problem drinkers while they are experiencing a Dimethyltryptamine, or DMT, ‘trip.’

To find out more about UNITy please check out our website: https://www.psychedelicunit.com

For some cool (DMT-related) art, check out our UNITy artists: https://www.psychedelicunit.com/our-artists

To have a chat tweet me: https://twitter.com/SHELANZAYNAH

To read further: https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/25877327 https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/19213917 https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/35837277 https://www.frontiersin.org/articles/10.3389/fnins.2018.00536/full https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC4773875

Seamus Heaney Portrait - David O’Connor is an artist and doctor based in Ireland.

DRIP

Liam Vandewalle | Liam is a Belgian-En glish writer and medical student living in Glasgow, Scotland.

Drip, drip, drip.

Can you hear it? Come closer, listen harder. It’s the teasing, tantalising last crusade of the raindrop as it rolls down a withered ivy leaf outside your bedroom window. Or perhaps it’s the smooth medicine on the stand, in the bag, next to the bed promising health, promising life, promising you. It’s Juliet, holding a prop knife thick with thin blood rolling off, unsheathing, hitting the auditorium floor. Whatever it is, there is something beautiful and dangerous about that sound. At once constant yet unreliable. Because you can guess but never really know when the next one will come, will hit.

I read once that you can torture a man like that.

I listen to the faucet in the kitchen of my shared flat. Number 4 never really mastered the art of turning the knob an extra five de grees to stop the water squeezing out the scaled neck of the chrome tap. I have giv en up on trying to sleep anymore. The eerie small hour light has slid over each surface of my room and eyelids, entreating recognition. I grant it. I lift off the starched sheets and swing my legs, heavier by the day, off the bed and onto the floor. The first thing I see, as I always see, is the easel. I always see the easel first. Then I see what’s on it. I hastily cast my eyes away and grimace, as if at some porn when I am post-ejaculation. I unlock my door and feel my way to the bathroom, animated less by any real energy than by that reliable urge of a morning piss.

Drip, drip, drip.

I read once that you can split a man’s mind in two like that.

Drip, drip, drip.

Fuck. The cobalt blue on the brush can’t wait to escape from my creative impulse to make a more impressive-looking imprint on my bedroom floor. I stand, hands by my side, eyes aghast at the ‘it’ on the easel in front of me. The paint keeps falling. Each rebel, radioactive pearl resounds in my head. Each

one sings of an unpaid bill, a pre-mashed potato that I still have to buy. An empty line on my curriculum vitae which is now being filled with that cacophonous cobalt blue. Some days I al low exactly three salty confessions to ooze from my brain and out of my eyes. Just three, never four. They burrow their way out of their ducts and roll down my parchment cheek to the most prominent part of my jaw.

Drip, drip, drip.

I awaken at 2.53am sharp, according to the heater pipes and my phone. The 24-hour time overlays her face. I wait for the 3 to graduate to 4 so I can make out the pearl smile on her face. I glance at me, clean-shaven and lean and arm wrapped round her tighter than my palm around the graceful gullet of a bottle. The picture is old but it is my way of keeping her “good.” Behind the 4, behind the eyes linger the perfect poisonous pixelated black pupils made into rainbows by her. I smile at the picture. The sun falls onto her hair like a halo should in all those old Renaissance paintings. But the playful sun outside doesn’t do much to stop inside surreptitious teeth. Inside her it oozes in wait. I was there when they told her. The first thing she did was look at me and say “it’ll be okay.” The joke of it was that she didn’t fight for her, she fought for me. She held my hand. Even as hers shrank, even as it paled. The small muscles and tendons supporting her ring finger first became more pronounced, then were lost too. They told me she was going. They asked if I wanted to stay, and that if I did I should be prepared to see her ‘in distress.’ I read somewhere they called it ‘the death rattle.’ When you’re dying you hyperexcrete respiratory secretions into your windpipe and it creates this rasping, gagging sound. Like drowning. They tried to stop it, tried to plug the secretions with their medicines. But she kept secreting.

Drip, drip, drip.

My bloodshot eyes drink the liquid that spouts from the bottle. They orbit around my orbits and leak into my skull, silently filling each expansive sulcus. The memories resonate with each exploding orb, extracting discordant notes that scream silent howls. That sound haunts me. No matter where I go, where I turn, who I plead with, there it is. My mind is a dry salt block underneath it. And yet, I cannot live without it. Without her. I am an addict. My nerves rely ing, screaming for that short sharp assertive syllable to release those pretty liquid chemicals from my reptile brain into my blood.

Drip, drip, drip.

I thought it would be romantic to go back to the place where she had tripped that one time and fallen and scraped her knee and it had bled like mad. The brown and off-brown surrounding me and the tall trees and mud offer no comfort to me, but that’s okay. I forgive them. I was schismed as to whether I wanted the sound to be there or not. So in the end I left it to chance. I made sure not to check the forecast for rain at all in the last four days. In my left hand I held

the knife. I thought how funny it was that the last thing I had cut with it had been red onions and how I hadn’t cried at all. I close my eyes and listen to my surroundings.

The rustling leaves.

A babbling brook.

A gasp eaten by the whistling wind.

Drip, drip, drip.

PHILOSOPHICAL DIMENSIONS OF BINS

Liam Vandewalle | Bins (non-recycling, non-organic)

What’s the hardest thing you’ve thrown away?

Bins (non-recycling, non-organic) represent a profound tenet of ancient as well as modern philosophy. The reader’s response to this may be healthy scepticism at best, and casual scoff at worst; regardless, both only bolster the argument presented in this piece. Consider briefly that the earliest waste management system dates back to as early as 6500 BC in the Fertile Crescent. Consider also that every society, every person and every cell produces waste. Be it urea or carbon dioxide or urine or shit or toxic fumes or radioactive sludge, our existence is interwoven with that which is a lesser side-product, a nuisance to our continued existence and convenience. The problem of the forced production of undesirable by-products confronts us all, and the receptacle into which we cast these ‘objects’ (by-products) has rarely been offered the limelight. Why should it? As a holder of our waste, it symbolises the very essence of that which is undesired, the contemptible. If a Hell of the household world were to exist, the bin (non-recyclable, nonorganic) would be it. There are plenty of other congenial and (perhaps even more) laudable household wares to consider thank-you-very-much (see blender, toaster, ceiling fan).

But I must drag you back. Because if bins are Hell, then who are we? For it is us, the homeowners and tenants who pick up that ‘reduced to clear’ clearwrapped tub of coleslaw (the reasons of which are beyond the scope of the present piece) only to leave it, stalwartly, on its lonely refrigerator shelf, all too soon shoved behind the veritable Monarchs of the Contemporary Fridge, namely barista potato milks and the compostable-but-not-biodegradable ‘plastic’ bags holding exactly 400g of purple sprouting kale. WE are the ones who reach into the limbos and purgatories and clasp it, then retrieve it, then cast an eye over the ‘thing’ and make the final guillotine decision baked into every choice in life: yes or no? In the case of our mayonnaisedrenched friend, the answer is all too easy: it has failed the test. It is not just undesirable, the way celery is undesirable next to a vegan biscoff-stuffed crumpet, but it is disgusting. The cutting electric dance happens in our insulate cortex that makes itself known as disgust. The decision is made in milliseconds: the guillotine falls and the slaw topples down just about as gracefully as a human head.

I argue that this decision is that which lends profundity to the philosophical ideal of the bin. In nature there exist mouths of emptiness into which cosmic forces tip that which is to be unmade: on an astronomical scale yawn the Black Holes of the Universe. In us there is neural synaptic depotentiation which facilitates the necessary and climacteric faculty of forgetting. Through these mechanisms things exit existence on some plane or another—smiting down old coleslaw is the same, with one crucial difference: that which enters a bin has been selected by us, a conscious mind, unlike that which enters a black hole, or a memory that is forgotten. It

raises the inverse equivalent of the epistemological question of knowledge, that is, forgetting, unmaking. Bins are the black holes we control, the condemnation to obscurity we have agency over. When we are burdened we must shed, but how can we know without a test or a scan that we are condemning that which is truly ‘bad,’ now and for FOREVER and for you and for all? What have you thrown away? Why have you done it? Was it easy or was it hard?

In Virgin train (RIP) cubicles in the UK, it was very reasonably asked of passengers to not flush a variety of oft-misflushed items down their toilets (see below). Included alongside these are presumably (?) less-often misflushed items that function to project a humorous and therefore relatable voice onto the capitalist (big fan) machine that is Virgin (it worked I LOVE IT take my money Richard ). Hilariousness aside, this poster also succinctly presents the problem with the agency described above. Coleslaw is easy to condemn to nothing, to the ‘Fogs of the Forget.’ But unpaid bills? Junk mail? Your ex’s sweater? How about a stuffed toy you bought but never got to give? A darkened photo of a room with a silhouette only you know the identity of? Objects which are not objects but people? Who gave me the authority to erase full people from my life? It is terrifying that you can plant your feet as firmly as you want, grip the handle of the bin as resolutely as you are able to, but that last, fatal impulse of release, of letting go is what makes you the terrible God in your own life.

What’s the hardest thing you’ve thrown away?

We avoid resting a lingering eye.

don’t flush

sanitary towels, paper towels, gum, old phones, unpaid bills, junk mail, your ex’s sweater, hopes, dreams or goldfish, down this toilet

Emily - Louise Hall is an artist & yogi in Glasgow, Scotland.

ELEGY FOR LUNGS

Miriam Elhajli | Miriam is a multidisciplinary improviser questioning along the peripheries of sound, folklore, and eco-poetics living between Brooklyn & New Orleans.

Part of a larger poetry collection, “Elegy For Lungs” chronicles the intimate personal lament of a first-generation queer American as she reconciles her nostalgia for a promised return back to a utopic motherland alongside the stark realities of displacement and colonialism in the New World. Looking through a multigenerational lens, these poems ask who we become after naturalization—how does the spirit of our ancestral heritage resist erasure? How can the silences inherited be spoken for?

A funeral march for the oral tradition

“It is not only air that one exhales but it’s a current which, according to mystics, runs from the physical plane into the innermost plane; a current that runs through the body, mind, and soul, touching the innermost part of life and also coming back; a continual current perpetually moving in and out”

“Breath is like a lift, a lift in which one rises up to the first floor, and then to the second, and then to the third floor—in fact wherever he wishes to go”

Hazrat Inayat Khan (The Music Of Life)

I

Caught in between the coil of inherited tongues, my upper lip my lower lip are a crosscurrent underneath this slanted bridge where the east river sinks ferries just for fun.

Half open I spill out can not find a container in which to retrieve myself and you are no longer beside the pier, with a spare handkerchief in your raincoat to place into my hand, without looking, and wait until I can catch my breath. (You never asked me for an explanation.)

Listening to the drone of the fisherman’s reel, We admit to forgotten family recipes. Was it saffron or mustard seed in the secret jar of spices left behind? If only I could remember the size of her palms I’d need no measuring cup.

remedy diner (april 2021)

I will never write anything down I will never write anything down I will never write anything down I will never write anything down I will never write anything down I will

Not write anything down I will not write anything down I will not write anything down I will not write anything down I will not write anything down I will not

Write anything down I cannot write anything down I will try to write anything down I will never try to write anything down I will not write everything down

I downright or else write everything up

Never write anything down

Never write anything down

Never write anything down

Never write everything down

Never write everything down

Never write everything down

Down I anything write

Write I Down everything

Down down everything I write W irte ownd ythingever ewrite I thing I thing I thing I thing I thing I thing I thing I think I ching I ching I ching I ching I think I thing I think I thing I thing I thing I thing thing thing thing disconnected suffocated text that is not what I meant at all

act seventeen scene two thousand; miscommunications libations pay attention to the notes ringing

....false note .........false note ................ false notes........ false note...... ......church bell................. false note........pause..... jackhammer.....exhalation..... ... .. ...false note........... ya know sometimes you’re full of shit!

not one word rannnnnnngggggg metal chime brass silver truth quantum particles agitated by your deadpan indifference towards cosmic nuance input input input 9V to 12V to 16V EXPLOSION

no one drags me to church anymore but it’s Easter Sunday on 11th & C so I celebrate resurrections & my weekly unemployment claim at the dilapidated corner chapel with inviting windows.

the Dominican preachers wife doesn’t know what to make of me as I enter late to service with carpenter pants on inside out & a stain on my vest. I catch her sideways glance containing the unspoken reminder that I am no longer a child. No longer unnoticed when blowing out rows of votive candles, no longer protected when walking behind my grandmother, pinching her elbow, as we pause in line to receive confirmation.

I am held accountable now and have to explain myself this afternoon— my improper attire, shaved head, armpits.

A CREATION RECIPE: THE UNCERTAINTY OF SIGNS

Miriam Elhajli | 07.07.2022

When dedicating your time to creation, you must remember life comes first. This is the foundational instrument in which you will play a most divinely tragic hymn. Life as in the cardinals call at dawn, as in your bare bloody feet getting pierced by safety pins, life as in the inevitable realization of a love that’s run its course.

The first instrument you will need to receive aliveness is your body/spirit. This vessel needs to be emptied out in order to become a net and instrument to receive and resonate. Find a toothpick and begin to scrub out the tar lodged in your jugular. After the physical has found a semblance of equilibrium you are ready to catch.

The second instrument you will need is a sieve. The more refined sieve the better, one in which you can part an atom is ideal. Then with all the experiences accumulated, pressurized in the corners of your consciousness, twist your wrist downwards and pour (slowly darling, so as not to spill please) and witness the distillation. Now concentrated into a form of spirit, alcohol, or material, the final outcome is a pure expression. In order to align oneself to most fully receive the emergence of a song (or any receptacle of form), it is best to spend an afternoon watching the theatrics of the ocean, ever-expanding and contracting, reducing a boulder to a grain of sand through sheer will and repetition. Does the elemental dissolution of water and rock occur in their meeting? In the colliding shock of their encounter where all sense of separateness is shattered by a subterranean fault line erupting? The boundaries are unclear of creator and created—the action and its consequences are what remain. Observe the ocean with your heart-eye; do not try to make sense of anything.

The final instrument before returning to the head of creations wheel is the consciousness of the human and non-human entities who will interact with your expression through their senses—tentacles of nerve endings. Sonic, visual, sensorial, or telepathic, the expression will

meet another filtration organ and morph. This is a process of translation where each witness’s “image-repertoire,” as Roland Barthes so exquisitely puts it, meets you at the nexus of your expression to reinterpret your language using their own intimate mythologies. Another word to describe this process of transfiguration is alchemy. It is a splintering off, like each petal of the sunflower, your expression has now refracted. The seed of your expression has become a field of marigolds – how miraculous. Remember, you can only make sense of the ethereal chaos temporarily. Enjoy the catharsis of your radiating creation—go tell someone you are in love. There are forces at play beyond comprehension and all we can do is watch the children light fireworks at midnight along the shoreline’s horizon.

FIX YOUR ONTOLOGY

Franz Hildebrandt-Harangozó | Franz is creating and performing shows in the Berlin Planetarium. He studied and now teaches philosophy at Humboldt University.

In Philosophy we discuss a lot of things, but our main questions can be found in:

Metaphysics: What is the nature of reality?

Epistemology: What can we know?1

Philosophy of Mind: Who are we?

Ethics: What should we do?

A subcategory of Metaphysics is called ontology.

Ontology: What is the world fundamentally made of?

Used as a noun, ontology becomes a perspective that a person can have on the world and differ ent people entertain different ontologies. The French philosopher René Descartes for example was a dualist which means he believed that there are two different substances that make up the world: an extended physical substance (res extensa) and a mental, non-extended, non-physical substance (res cogitans). Some other common ontological stances are non-dualist—i.e. mo nist—stances in the sense that their proponents deny the existence of two separate fundamental substances in favor of a unified principle. Some think of this principle as one of materialism (everything is physical) and some think of it in an idealist way (everything is mental).

You are entertaining an ontology as well, whether you constructed it consciously or adopted it in an unconscious manner. Take a minute to think about your ontology. What is the world fundamentally made of? What is really going on?

Chances are that you are leaning towards a dualist conception, generally thinking of the world as something physical but leaving a few dualist backdoors open when it comes to conscious experience, love, free will and related ideas.

In contemporary science, those backdoors are mostly closed by shutting down the intuition pumps that kept them open. But still, the resulting ontologies do not pan out in a productive way.

¹ Note that the answer to this question will inevitably put constraints on the space of possible answers for the other three. In this sense the title of this article “fix your ontology” will involve fixing our epistemology first.

The prevalent metaphysical position of our time is strong physicalism.

This position assumes the epistemological primacy of physical interactions.

In the current version of strong physicalism, the phenomena in the universe are caused by matter/energy and the physical laws that govern them, i.e. the phenomena of the universe, including minds (which are a subset of the phenomena in the universe), are then the conse quence of quanta and their interactions (Bach, Verdicchio 2012, S. 17).

Here many people nowadays are left with the ontological intuition that at the lowest level there is this continuous space in which matter and energy interact and this gives rise to everything else. But in that lowest level sense, there never was any matter or energy in the first place. We made them up. To show this I will present the concept of epistemological computationalism.

Epistemological computationalism2 is not compatible with the notion of strong physicalism, be cause it shifts the epistemological primacy from matter/energy and the physical laws that gov ern them to information (i.e. discernible differences) (Wolfram 2002).

It does so on the grounds that all possible observations of the universe do not reveal matter or energy, but information.

Matter/energy and physical laws can never be observed. All observations only consist of dis cernible differences.

Regularities in the way the discernible differences are correlated can be discovered and formu lated as entities. These entities can then be used as predictive models of further regularities in the correlation of the observables.

An example from our everyday experience are movies. Let us suppose we have an old-school analogue video projector and we are watching a movie on a big screen. In this movie there is a billiard scene. If we assume that this scene consists of people hanging out in a bar, making billiard balls hit each other, we can understand what is happening on the big screen

We can even do this in a predictive way: even though it is a movie, the billiard balls will most likely not get up from the table to order a drink at the bar. No! The Billiard ball moves because it got hit by another one, we think to ourselves. In this way we are watching the movie scene and we subconsciously constructed billiard balls, people, causality and momentum—a predictive set of made-up modeling entities—to understand the dynamics on the big screen.

² In different contexts also called functional constructivism - see Bach 2009, p.8 or von Fo erster & von Glasersfeld, 1999.

And it works!3 But at the same time we obviously know that all these things do not exist on the big screen. There are no billiards balls, no people and no causality. All these dynamics are byproducts of a video projector going through a series of slides. On the big screen there is only the light of the projector in varying intensities—a dance of discernible differences4.

If you want to think of it in a more general way: you being born and growing up is basically the same as you watching a continuing (multi-modal interactive) movie. All your brain gets is a stream of discernible differences and to understand and predict the patterns in this stream. Your brain constructs models like colors, people and causality (and your own self, but let’s not get too Buddhist right now—the models our brain creates are increasingly more complex than the models used in the movie example of course). But still—there are no billiard balls, no people and no causality in the real world.

In an even bigger and more extensive way, all of this happens as well when we are not watching a movie or when we grow up but when we try to understand the world5. In this case the big screen is the set of all observations (a finite vector of bits). To understand the dance of discern ible differences in this bit vector, we use a set of made-up modeling entities once again.

A possible predictive set of constructed entities consists of matter/energy and physical laws. This set of constructed modeling entities is captured in the idea of the physical universe. The physical universe is a possible theory that encodes the observed data6 (Bach, Verdicchio 2012, S. 17).

Among all the other discovered possible theories, it has been so successful that it stirs meta physical confusion in philosophy, leading to sets of beliefs that assume a metaphysical primacy

3 Sometimes it doesn’t work. If there is a malfunction on one of the slides or in the video pro jector, we will get artifacts on the big screen that are not explainable by the dynamics of our made-up entities and we have to take a step back and look at the video projector itself to un derstand therm.

4 Discernible differences are usually described by mathematical functions. Functions are a mode of description. They describe the abstract shape of changes. Math deals with all possible shapes of abstract change. Numbers for example are an ongoing successor function which can be given arbitrary shapes by using a couple of other functions which we call logical operators. Numbers are in some sense an abstract synthesizer with numbers-towers as the substrate and the logical operators as the interface.

5 Movies (simulacra) and computer games (simulations) are controlled pattern generators— they produce discernible differences which can be predicted with the help of made-up model ing entities. From our perspective, the universe is a controlled pattern generator as well.

6 Here, matter and energy are possible orderings that can be constructed over the discernible differences. Physical laws are propositions regarding the way in which the adjacent differences are correlated.

of the entities making up the physical universe, while treating all other discovered possible theories as being theories about the physical universe7.

The confusion disappears by locating the physical universe and all other discovered possible theories in the same domain—as valid encodings of the observations—and, in that, ascribing epistemological primacy to the observations themselves, i.e. to discernible differences.

This makes the notion of an ultimate physical substrate unproductive since it is empirically inconvertible and unobservable. In that, even if one starts out from a physicalist stance, they will arrive at epistemological computationalism just by excluding superfluous concepts from the physicalist approach (Bach, Verdicchio 2012, S. 17).

Now that we have fixed our ontology, we are freed from the shackles of a specific model and we can continue to explore the world in a productive way. A theory of everything does not need a physical substance. A theory of everything will be the set of the (most elegant) func tions—the correlates of all observations.

Bach, J. and Verdicchio, M. (2012): “What kind of machine is the mind?”, Turing-100, S. 16-19. Bach, J. (2009): Principles of Synthetic Intelligence: Psi: An Architecture of Motivated Cogni tion. Oxford University Press, Oxford Series on Cognitive Models and Architectures. Foerster, H. von. Glasersfeld, E. von. (1999): Wie wir uns erfinden. Eine Autobiographie des radikalen Konstruktivismus. Carl Auer, Heidelberg. Wolfram, S. (2002): A New Kind of Science. Champaign, IL: Wolfram Media.

7 This leads to the problem that other theories have to grapple with the model-specific con straints of the physical universe in order to be a coherent theory about it. The contemporary impotence of the philosophy of mind can be partially ascribed to this problem (the other fac tors being ontic commitments to artifacts of our mind’s world models and the use of non-for mal and incoherent languages).

CAPTURED BY CAPTIONS

Tevin Muendo | Tevin Muendo makes documentaries and writes, among many other things. He currently lives in Hackney, London.

This poem was written using only quotes from real Instagram captions.

Oh helllllo ��

My mind says as I look in the mirror

So sexy xx

U so pretty xxxx

I produce my phone, sometimes From out of my purse, to crystallise my validation

Each time, laying my own bed of nails

ARE YOU EVEN REAL in public, thoughts flood my mind...constantly “pretend ya don’t know the photos being taken” Plandid? ��

Socialising has gotten to be exhausting Anxiety at an all time high Look at her! �� Can I just be you �� until Finally, Home xx

Skin dabbed with armour piercing wipes, Miss this face xx I think

THE SHOP

Tevin Muendo | ��

Term resumes and so does the shop, you know? The one involving human stock, quickly on a rack spun girls and guys, we watch as humans become silk ties, first to go, always easy on the eyes, the yellows and purples subject to routine demise, can Disguise in a guise of un-wavered eyes

Have you ever seen the boyfriend stall? come you ladies! come one and all! We have gents of all stature, nice, or grim as grinches, we have guys for those of you who prefer the ‘inches,’ Or height?! Our most popular model is over 6ft tall, we’ll even throw in the massive ego for no charge at all

Have you ever seen the girlfriend market? where testosterone meets child-like shyness, date requirements are an initial kindness that you may soon retract when the inevitable dryness, takes effect, when you superficially select the opposite sex

Be wary when visiting this shopping centre, as I regret to say that once you enter, that you become pretty obvious to the opposite gender, that you’re quite a frequent date attender, but alas, enjoy this romantic bender, signed yours truly, a future date contender

LIVING WITH ARTISTS

Living with artists was far from being the idyllic experience that I had hoped it would be. I had spent the months prior stewing over my decision to accept a scientific research post at USF, which would end my year-long escapade and life in Amsterdam. I was going back to San Francisco, and needed every day dream possible to make the move more bear able. Now you may be thinking—you were dreading moving to San Francisco? Really? It was, after all, named 2020’s most livable city, and 2019’s, and 2017’s. The top spot had escaped from reach in 2018, when the big S had been edged out by the other big S, Sydney. This was only because San Fran cisco’s fentanyl crisis obtained more interna tional airtime in 2018 than it had in the past. Luckily, this detail quickly faded back into obsolescence, allowing SF to regain its right ful throne the following year. I know, I know, San Fran’ is objectively not that bad.

In fact, my dislike of the place is niche enough to be funny and maybe even interesting. After moving to London, I had it listed as my ‘per sonal hell’ on Bumble until I realised that it served its purpose as a ‘prompt’ by starting only terrible conversations. I would struggle to answer when potential suitors asked me ‘but why?’—my fake reasons for hating the Bay area are shallow (‘not enough cultural offerings! This place is void of refined civili zation. Plus, their MOMA sucks’) or sound overly politically correct (‘SF has lost all its grassroots anarchist charm and is shaped only by techy Silicon bros. Nothing here is actually Fairtrade. Everyone knows that

Cascadia’s only truly carbon-neutral farmto-table markets are in Sedro-Wooley in Northern Washington state). These remarks conjure an image of a spoiled-rotten rich kid or leftist hipster, neither of which I am exactly. I hated how others perceived me in San Francisco (which might suggest something about the things I don’t like about myself). But for now, enough: you’ll see why this is important later on.

My real reasons for hating SF and therefore dreading moving there were far too revealing and painful to share with a total stranger on a dating app. It had to do with living with art ists. Let me tell you about it.

Wonderful and generous Michaela had of fered me her room: it was in the heart of Haight-Ashbury and only a short run to the ocean for convenient early morning skinny dipping. In the middle of a housing crisis it was a no-brainer to accept her offer of a fourmonth summer sublet in a place she referred to as the ‘Green House;’ I put my reservations about moving to SF aside. There remained the issue of where I would live come Septem ber, but this was still in the distant future as far as I was concerned. Truly aeons away, ac tually, (when taking into account my history of precarious living situations) and could be dealt with at a later date.

My desperate self had leapt at Michaela’s of fer of a room: in I rolled with my assortment of junk. The aesthetic of most of my worldly possessions can be described as ‘secondhand

and nearly threadbare,’ perhaps ‘homeless’ if seen in the Tenderloin district (my stepsister re cently said I looked like I ‘lived in a charity shop’). Despite this, it all has a large (very unPC) carbon footprint—collected in flea markets and unnecessarily transported across the globe, only to be hoarded in piles. This junk is combined with ‘expensive yet impractical objects.’ For example, the Montblanc fountain pen my father gave me for no reason other than ‘everyone needs a nice pen.’ My best friend Eloise once remarked on the ridiculousness of this pen and suggested I sell it to pay 2 months’ rent in a nicer flat, as I was living in a different sort of shithole at that time.

I arrived at the Green House with my bags, shaky mental state and prestigious undergraduate student research grant at USF. I was to spend the summer ‘investigating the relationship between changing climate and surface hydrology in the Bay area.’ In practice, this involved weighing salt into carefully labelled bags resembling cocaine (at least, I pretended they did to make my life more exciting), calibrating electrovoltometer probes, dumping said salt in river and measur ing saltiness downstream to determine the changes in flow rate. And finally, processing the thousands of data points obtained during each collection using Matlab and Matlab’s extensive online help section. This help section was a godsend. Each time I struggled to use the correct syntax when looping ‘if-statements,’ or tried to figure out how to generate a topographic map using geo-points, I could simply consult the online help section and find an organised and rele vant list of possible solutions. I wished, at various moments, that I could peruse a similar online help section for the mundane problems of my own life. For example, how do I get a curry stain out of a brand new white mock-neck from COS ($129.99) that I had worn without removing the tags with the intention of returning it after wearing it for 8 hours whilst a plus one to a non-boyfriend’s aunt’s wedding? Or, how do I stop myself from checking my crush’s Instagram, Facebook, and Linkedin profiles daily (as well as those of his brother, mother, and punk band) even after they made it very clear that they weren’t interested in anything of any kind after three dates and one dismal night together? Or, how does one avoid the extra charge incurred when renewing a drivers’ licence they have knowingly let expire due to negligence, forgetfulness and feeling overwhelmed with the bureaucracy of modern life? If a Matlab help section existed for problems like these, my time in San Francisco may have been very different indeed.

For my first 4 days at the Green House, I was completely ignored. On the 5th day, and very much in passing, I finally met one of the flatmates, who turned out to also be a subletter. She seemed nice enough, but was Latvian and spoke only rudimentary English. Despite being ex perienced and even good at feigning the ability to speak a foreign tongue better than I actually do, this talent fell flat upon the realisation that this skill extends only to languages of Latin, Anglo-saxon or Germanic origin. Latvian was far too Eastern to fit my conjectural language babble so I contented myself with friendly-sounding noises and a hopefully kind demeanour. In return she fed me pickles and hard cheese and rye bread crisps. Her Soviet straightfor wardness was somehow familiar and even comforting in the Green House, where no one else seemed to care that I existed. However, my interaction with Illka was short-lived as she moved back to Riga within weeks of me moving in, supposedly to get her life and career in order. This

seemed strange to me, as she was living in the world’s most livable city and the Baltic states hardly bring to mind’ economic prosperity,’ but away she went, leaving me to my devices at the sad, lonely Green House. I know now I ought to have followed her to Riga.

Michaela had instructed me to ‘touch base’ with Simone and told me that she was in charge of the ‘space.’ I loathe expressions like ‘touch base’ and ‘space’ as I find them pretentious yet stupid sounding. They’re the kind of expression only used by either smooth-talking CEOs, yummy American dads or woke ‘artists.’ The use of these terms alone should have been a red flag, but I was too committed to my lack of housing to back out. My belongings were already strewn around the room in vague piles, not properly put away as this would imply that I was staying a while (after moving in, my mother implored me to send her pictures of my setup— she knew about the piles and was afraid this would happen as she associated piles in my room with piles in my brain). I tried in vain to track down Simone so that we might touch each oth er’s bases, but she was nowhere to be found. It seemed as if no one lived in this house. Large, wooden, and old, it creaked and swayed when the ocean breezes turned into strong winds that churned the water into white caps that bubbled and sprayed at their peaks. The frothy behe moths would then crash into the massive rocks and logs of the West coast beaches. When these winds came, I imagined the House’s green boards getting ripped off, leaving the old thing bare and naked and the dull grey-brown colour of old barns in the American Midwest. The House had an odd feeling of vacancy even though four people supposedly lived here. Its best feature was a massive south-facing wrap-around covered porch which received sunlight in the morn ing. I had taken to sitting out on the porch and reading my book on the wicker bench. When I did this, I felt like an imposter—I felt as though the entire neighbourhood was watching me sit on this porch. I was as discreet as possible in my ADLs (Activities of Daily Living; one of my favourite acronyms1) to avoid disturbing the ‘Artists.’ But I was weak and sat on that lovely porch anyway, the morning light casually making an appearance despite the actual scarcity thereof (*San Francisco is not known for its rays of sunlight).

Shortly after Illka’s departure and after living in the House for nearly two weeks, Simone appeared on the porch as I was reading the Bell Jar on a Sunday morning. ‘Hey,’ she said. Her eyes were the colour like the Wapta icefields on an overcast day, and I watched them look me up and down, sizing me up like a judge might size up an auditionee before their performance for the role of Frenchy in Grease (a character who seems important at the beginning, but who the judge knows will ultimately disappear halfway through the show for no reason other than ‘does not add to the plot’). I put down my book, wore my most luminous smile and intro duced myself. I made the usual introductory talk, smiled some more, asked questions, laughed

¹ It may seem odd and contradictory that I love acronyms like ADLs while actively denigrating other colloquialisms. I love them because they allow us to efficiently describe complex yet te dious things through the use of simple letters. They are also sometimes an inside joke with myself some acronyms are so ridiculous that using them ironically makes me laugh. Sort of like certain emojis (have you ever seen cat face with heart eyes ��).

politely. It was social interaction at its finest. She explained to me the history of the Green House, about how the city had bought the neighbourhood and slated it for demolition, about how the community in the 60s had revolted and saved the entire Clayton Street block. The lease had been grandfathered down through generations of self-proclaimed hippies. Simone seemed nice, but not warm. Actually, there was something distinctly glacial in her demeanour. Now, one may be thinking that this could just be my perception and not an objective descrip tion of her personality. After all, you can’t please everyone. ‘Trop plaire est une plaie,’ which means that ‘to please too much is a wound,’ or a less literal but more accurate interpretation, ‘don’t try to please everyone as this will cause you injury.’ This is a quote proclaimed by one of my favourite pieces of Parisian street art ever, found in rue François Miron (please see below).

I loved it so much that I’d written a poem based on it as a letter to Eloise when she was strug gling with addiction to self-destructive substances, habits, and thoughts. I find it so wholly encompasses the injury and hurt one inflicts on themselves when trying to please—whether that be a boss, a lover, their father, or society at large. The poem goes like this:

For Eloise trop plaire est une plaie

I’m glad you told me Though I had guessed it before You can see it clearly, easily When you’ve had it too

The echoes of desire the line between want and need becoming clouded, grey tornadoes in my head How much longer? will i be able to get what i need? today? ‘wow i feel good’ (alone)

But really It’s like trying to fill a leaky watering can With the hole growing larger and larger The more you try to fill it

I’m glad you told me Because in some way it makes it better Because I know how hard it can be to say it Out loud

It’s easier to bury it deep, Under the baggy shabby clothes Under the cheerful voice Under the counting, the lead-pencil sharp focus on one thing, the only thing that matters

Even buried, it’s worrying Like a plastic bag that somehow got into the compost heap and won’t decompose Like an easy to hide blister that you know could burst any day And I know it’s

Complicated Glomby Isolating

Makes you feel whack, etc

But I guess it’s good to remember: It’s not forever Allow yourself the same leniency As you would a child

Would you tell them ‘no’ How far, long, hard would you push them with their innocent bodies and minds Or wouldn’t you?

But I’m derailing the story—back to frigid Simone. Even my friend Eloise who often struggles to pick up on subtle social cues or reactions, had remarked unprompted on her iciness following their first interaction. My gregarious and extremely perceptive friend Katie had actually coined the phrase ‘cold hippies’ to describe Simone and the other housemates, who will be introduced short ly. She was nice enough—not outwardly grumpy or rude at the outset. But the more time I spent in the Green House, the more I noticed the inconsistencies between their talk and their walk. Communal living, political correctness and ‘creative awakenings’ became tropes for selfishness, arrogant moral superiority, and bad art (sorry, I know that the value of ‘art’ is in the eye of the beholder. But what is to follow was so disturbing and un-enticing that it forever tainted whatever creative juices they may have had to offer). I would later find out that the rare occasions when they acted ‘nice’ were merely strategic means to an end.

entire month. I paid the rent on time, I bought toilet rolls when we ran out (no one else was inclined to do this). I washed, dried, and put away my dishes when I cooked. I tried in vain to forge friendships with the Green House in habitants; our interactions remained stilted. Throughout this period, I was not asked a sin gle question. I couldn’t decide whether it was my personality that inspired this indifference, or a morbid lack of curiosity on their part.

A month in, I shaved my head and re-pierced my left nostril. This sounds more dramatic than it was; my hair was already cropped quite short so it was not a huge change. However, the #1 buzz over my scalp and small silver ring in my nose turned out to be significant. I must have looked more an drogynous and thus more ‘interesting’—end result: the roommates gave me more of their time. Simone would insinuate questions re garding my sexuality, which I am quite cer tain was a form of flirting as she was openly (and condescendingly) bisexual. I tried hard to dissuade her from these conversations, and generally suggested heterosexuality ‘as far as I knew’ while not totally excluding the possibility of bi-curiosity as the new haircut, nose ring, and speculation surrounding my orientation had given me a sort of social cap ital in the House (I would later consider my self to be on the spectrum of bisexuality, but the label freaked me out and anyway I did not want to act patronizingly different as they did, making straight people feel as obsolete as sex toys from the 1950s). I played it cool. However, thanks to my haircut, my status changed from artistically illiterate scientist to possibly-BIPOC comrade. That is, until Si bellius moved in.

I kept to myself the following days, which turned into weeks, and eventually into an

To be continued, in issue 2.

OCEAN

Nighttime on Gambier Island - Photo by Oscar J. Morgan.

Sea-through - Sophie Edwards

STRAND | THE BEACH

Duc Vinh Nguyen | Duc Vinh studies art history and computing science in Berlin.

Im Sand sitzend horche ich dem Stürmen der Meere. Der Wind sorgt für ein nie endendes Rauschen. Links sehe ich zwei Muscheln, wie sie sich im Wind aufbäumen, rechts in der Ferne einen einsamen Fotografen, der mit sich im Reinen ist. Seit Stunden versteckt sich die Sonne schon hinter den Wolken. Leicht scheinen die Vögel vor dem grau, gelben Himmel zu schweben. Ratlos sitze ich in meiner orangen Hose hier, und warte auf das baldige Ende.

Heiligenhaft, 14.08.21

Sitting in the sand, I listen to the storm of the sea, With the wind providing a never-ending roar.

On the left, I see two shells rearing up in the breeze On the right, in the distance, a lonely photographer at peace with himself.

The sun has been hiding behind the clouds for hours. Birds seem to float lightly in front of the grey and yellow sky. Perplexed I sit here in my orange trousers and wait for the imminent end.

REGENBOGENFORELLE

Carla Theuring | Carla Theuring is interested in different ways of healing the mind and body, such as through art and ergotherapy. She currently studies social work in Berlin.

BRAUNFORELLE

TO THE SOUTH SHORE

Noa Amson | 09.12.2019

Stepping outside into the brightness of the day For the first time

The white light, blinding The cold air

The ground hard from last night’s frost

The world looks white

A huge lake, shimmering at the surface

The waves invisible despite the wind

But I’m running, running Tears streaming

Either from the wind, the light, or emotion I can’t tell

And the dome of sky, deep blue in the middle Paling to nothingness at the edges Bathed in the white light of day

Then I’m laughing

Because of the world’s beauty And that I get to be a part of it

What more could you, me, or anyone else ask for A beautiful world And the knowledge that it’s here to stay Until the day I won’t Anymore

EVOLUTIONISM: A SHORT INTRO

Franz Hildebrandt-Harangozó | Author.

1. What is Evolutionism? (Welcome to the second outrage against humanity).

Originally published in 1989, the book ‘Evolution: The History of an Idea’ by the Irish historian Peter J. Bowler has been, and still is, an influential work in the field of the history of science. The book gives a thorough account of the history of evolutionary thought over the past few centuries. Here you will get a short summary of Bowler’s general conception of the idea of Evolutionism

The history of evolutionism is best captured in the transition from a static (divine) to a dy namic (natural) model of the world.

The Darwinian revolution began before Darwin was born. Evolutionism is not the same as Darwin’s Theory of Natural Selection. Bowler uses it as a general term to describe any theory arguing that lifeforms on Earth used to be different than they are today.

A crucial element leading to the rise of evolutionism (in whatever form) was what Bowler calls the expansion of the time scale (Bowler, 2009, p. 4), i.e. the insight that the Earth and the uni verse itself might be quite old and long-lived. Geologists played an essential part in expanding the time scale by showing that the Earth must be far older than the Judeo-Christian estimate, nailed down by James Ussher to a mere 6000 years.

The idea of an evolving physical universe (Bowler, p. 3) laid the foundations for thought mod els assuming that radical natural change concerned living things as well. Fossil evidence also played an important role in the development of evolutionism. Once paleontologists discovered fossils implying that the Earth had been inhabited by a vast number of unknown organisms in the past that were no longer around, it became more and more obvious that the biblical story of creation couldn’t be taken as literally as had been previously assumed. These fossils, which had been found in a number of different sedimentary layers, suggested that there had been more than just one act of divine creation, if divine at all.

These findings did not change the old worldview overnight. Rather, they initiated a step-bystep process in which numerous emerging scientific discoveries and theories became embed ded in the existing model of divine creation and religious belief. Therefore, evolutionism does not entail atheism.

At this time, many people believed in the fixity of species, or the idea that even if there had been more than one act of creation, every species was still designed by God and was part of a fixed

pattern where each design served a specific purpose. This argument from design states that the finely tuned and highly complex appearance of each species is too perfect to have developed from natural processes and therefore hints towards a teleological explanation of organic structures (Bowler, p. 6). However, evolutionism does not equal transmutation (gradual or radical change of one species into another). Therefore, the argument from design could still be com patible with certain evolutionist perspectives (e.g. if species are designed, then go extinct, after which new species are designed and take their place).

The idea that there had been a single divine event of creation became difficult to defend in the face of evidence that so many species had previously existed but then since disappeared. Several theories started invoking a process described as the chain of being, meaning that a sequence of successive species lived and went extinct while inevitably leading to the appearance of the human race. That way, humans would keep their status as the (indirect) result of an act of divine interference, as well as the pinnacle of this creation. Evolutionism does not require the belief in purposeless processes

2. The Pre-Evolutionary Worldview

The pre-evolutionary worldview mentioned by Bowler in his book refers to the state of affairs in Europe and the U.S.—specifically in the era before the first evolutionist ideas were brought forward rather than in the thousands of years in human history before that.

This may be due to the fact that there was no such thing as one commonly accepted pre-evo lutionary view of the world. Glimpses of evolutionary thought like the ones in the works of Anaximander as well as teleological and theistic views of the kind brought forward by Plato and Aristotle appeared and disappeared over and over again throughout the centuries. There has never been a period of universal agreement with regards to the interpretation of the Bi ble’s Genesis creation story (Bowler, 2009, p. 27). For example, the movement of modern creationism, with a literal interpretation of the Bible, is actually a byproduct of social and political shifts of the early 20th century and therefore has nothing to do with a pre-evolutionary worldview.

Still, it can be assumed that before the scientific revolution starting in the mid-16th century there was a more static view of the universe and life itself—as an orderly functioning system created by God. The difference between a static worldview and a dynamic one (as mentioned above) might be what really separates the pre-evolutionary worldview from what came after. Here static means a belief in an unchanging, hierarchical chain of being, whereas dynamic denies these propositions, believing in the possibility of change through divine or natural causes over time.

Even if the life sciences lagged behind in the scientific revolution, they were nevertheless influ enced by the findings of other scientific disciplines, such as geology. The uniformitarianism of James Hutton and Charles Lyell strongly influenced evolutionist thinking. Uniformitarianism

is, broadly speaking, the view that the laws of nature are constant across space and time. Therefore, the laws that we can observe today should be the same as those that make the world appear as it does and always has. This allows the unobservable past to be reconstructed based on what is observable today. In geology, this meant that enormous geological differences could be explained by letting the laws we accept today run over large timescales in order to produce mountains and valleys, oceans and continents.

Uniformitarianism is a prime example of the soon-to-be new methods of inductive reasoning and empiricism. It seems that evolutionism was taken seriously by the public and the scientific community as soon as these methods were applied in the life sciences as well.

From the 1876 version of the Origin of Species: Here you can see Darwin talking about what we know call confirmation bias as a common error of the inductive method. This is a good example of the new way scientific research was applied to the life sciences.

To summarize, for anyone interested in how our current view of evolution by natural selection came about, the text above outlining the concept of evolutionism hopefully provides some context for understanding the trajectory of the Darwinian Revolution in the 19th century and helps put the ideas of historical figures such as Lamarck, Darwin, Mendel, Huxley (and many others) into perspective.

VEIL

Camila Posada | Camila is a specialist in philosophy, politics, and economics from Bogotá, Colombia. She currently lives in Amsterdam, Netherlands.

The slit of a skirt, revealing a longing in all its soundness. The cry from the bones, the resolute chill of desire. She had once been confused—her head hanging down in madness— at that sublime existence, the inevitable stroke of sadness. The steep decline from the top, when the distance between her and that vastness, would subtly, steadfastly blur.

An improbable—almost unattainable—mix between resistance and surrender. It made all that soundness so assuredly disappear.

YAYOI K. MEETS THE NATURAL WORLD

Saja Badusa | Saja is a 25-year-old Palestinian medical laboratory scientist. Outside of the laboratory, she loves to paint, cook, and play sports, amongst many other things.

This collection was inspired by my favourite artist YAYOI KUSAMA, a Japanese woman who is obsessed with polka dots, and my laboratory work. Looking at the tiny cells that make up our human bodies under a microscope was always like looking into a work of art for me. Seeing all this through the powerful lens of a scope made me wonder how we could possibly be so small in our world yet still be the centre of it; we are just dots in different spaces in this universe.

MIND OCEAN SPACE

AFLOAT AND AFAR, LOVE IS HOME

Lindsay Tattersall | Lindsay is currently based on the traditional territories of the Anishinaabe, Haudenosaunee and the Huron-Wendat in Sydenham, Ontario, Canada.

Through ceremony of the mundane sacrament in routine Ritual in preparation I’ve built shrines in the quiet morning to the plain-ness of grief and welcoming and healing and growth

Afloat and afar love is home and I am coming Thunder rolls over me today in waves My senses are heightened reaching to other worlds for traces of you. Your memory licks my wounds in the dark and blankets me You are loved

I feel you today, my teacher, my guide, my sweet saltwater babe beside me and inside me always

This space has been a whirlwind without days or nights or waking-life or dreams

I am held by kin who feel what I am feeling whose palms offer strengths and reprieves in turns With whom I find safety in loving and missing, calling and wanting

My body is rhythmic in its flowing movement between the voids and the silences. In the spaces we find each other

This drift is our communion Help me to sway in the tides A pull outside of control

But sometimes the storm will wash over me waves across muscle and bone

again and again and again and I'll gasp for air and cry for you before I remember This Ocean is our own And I am a strong swimmer. This Ocean is our own. My salt too, blood and tears these waters will recede

On the worn shore she delivered my heart From the spot on the horizon where the sea touches the sky Held together outside of time under the moon and the stars and the sun and the rest-seeking seabirds.

Afloat and afar, love is home.

ECOLOGY OF THE ANTHROPOCENE

Erin Tattersall | Erin is a PhD student at the University of British Columbia. She lives in Sinixt territory near Nelson, B.C.

Like most scientists, I was drawn to my work because I wanted to know how the world fit together. Ecology is the field of biology that focuses on relationships, particularly the inter actions that help or hinder an organism’s abil ity to survive in any given environment. In my case, this involves understanding the relationships between wildlife and their habitats. Part of my job is to explore what wildlife need to thrive, and what may cause them harm. I fol low linkages to map out how changes to land scapes connect to shifts in individual behav iors, and how altered individual behaviors lead to changes in populations and wildlife com munities. I connect the dots between humans, landscapes, and wildlife to sketch pictures of life in the Anthropocene—the human era.

our daily lives is derived, in some way, from the Earth. Raw materials are pulled from landscapes around the world, which are often hidden from the view of the end user. This resource extraction leaves scars on the land scape that are slow to regenerate, if they can be recovered at all. The wildlife inhabiting those landscapes must then adapt to accom modate the scars, triggering cascades in their community dynamics that leave some species struggling to survive.

Figure 1: A caribou cow and her calf inspect a wildlife camera on a seismic line in northern Al berta, CA.

With growing populations come growth in resource consumption. Everything we use in

My work focuses on the wildernesses of west ern Canada. Though relatively sparsely pop ulated, it bears the scars of forest harvest and oil and gas extraction that form the basis of products consumed thousands of kilometres away. Logging creates cutblocks—large bald patches interconnected by winding forest service roads. Oil exploration leaves behind a maze of linear corridors, pipelines and seis mic lines that stretch straight to the horizon.

Figure 2: Grey wolves emerge from a black spruce forest onto a seismic line in northern Alberta, CA.

These disturbance types result in chang es in the vegetation growth and the pattern of habitats across the landscape. Distur bance-tolerant plants are favorite foods for moose and deer, providing fuel for popu lation growth. In turn, predators such as wolves increase in number to feed on the growing source of prey. In this scenario, cari bou are often caught in the middle. Caribou, who feed mainly on lichens that grow in ma ture forests, are not the main food source for predators. Nevertheless, more predators on the landscape means more predator-caribou encounters. Caribou’s natural defense strat egy is to hide in hard-to reach places, but landscape changes create access to remote areas, making this strategy much less useful. On top of that, forest harvest and vegetation shifts make caribou food sources scarcer.

While studying this system, I reflect on how this chain of events can be traced back to me. I consume resources extracted from these landscapes, and I use the resulting roads and corridors to access my outdoor hobbies. I am just one person, but there are millions of people just like me. Our indi vidual habits are additive, compounding to have consequences for entire species. This is the ecology of the Anthropocene.

I cannot remove myself from this system. But I can map it, find my place in it, and influence how I am connected to it.

Figure 3: Seismic lines divide the boreal forest landscape.

Timothy Andrews | Timothy resides on the traditional territories of the Anishinaabe, Haudenosaunee and the Hu ron-Wendat in Sydenham, Ontario, Canada.

To be alive is to reproduce. Our minds are drawn to those places which feel like accurate models of our inner land scape. We will exert ourselves to an absurd degree just to in habit the locations where our minds find pause. Capturing and studying these spaces can be a kind of therapy, a map of our heads that can show us where we are and where we come from. For lessons that nobody could possibly teach us, keep your eyes open.

I always try to incorporate a sense of space in the art that I create, letting the moments linger to reveal their hidden beauty. I take my cues from the world I live in about what to capture, making space for certain details to grab my attention instead of seeking. Only after living somewhere for months will I start to shoot video, recording things that I encounter every day, usually when walking the dogs. Documenting my life in this way helps me to process the complicated thoughts/feelings/emotions that occupy my mind on these daily excursions.

Video link: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=HKvcd5UOG4o.

SPACE

A REVIEW OF BERLIN: A NOVEL BY BEA SETTON

Tagget Bonham-Carter | Tagget was born in America and grew up in England and Canada, where she immigrated with her family. In her free time she is an avid reader and gardener, and loves walking in whatever countryside she is nearest to.

Berlin is one of those books you pick up on a quiet Saturday afternoon, only realising how much time has passed when you have to reach over to turn on a light.

The novel begins as many coming-of-age stories do; a young person transitioning to adulthood moves to a new city with the promise of new beginnings. The tone is per haps a little bit like Bridget Jones, but more cerebral.

Quickly however, the author takes the read er on a dark journey of struggling mental health characterised by an eating disorder. Ms. Setton does a brilliant job of getting into the mind of the protagonist and illustrating the disturbing reality of this complex medi cal condition.

I couldn’t put it down. I didn’t exactly enjoy it, but that is because it was executed in a way that it all felt very real. It could be any woman— myself / my daughter / my niece / my aunt / my cousin / my friends.

The story is common, the writing is not.

MUSINGS ON SODA BREAD

Alanna Grogan | Alanna is a law student and amateur chef in Dublin, Ireland. You can see more of her delicious food things on Instagram @alannas.table.

The image of soda bread as an Irish histor ical food is well-established in the minds of tourists, diaspora and locals alike. The rus tic, primitive nature of the bread lends itself well to ideas of it being baked over fire in the pre-Famine era, or sustaining whole families in the 1700s. However, soda bread is a rela tive newcomer in Irish food heritage, and has only established a role in the past 150 years.

In Ireland, it is very difficult to grow high-pro tein wheat due to our infamously rainy weath er, and high-protein grain is necessary to get the high gluten development necessary for yeasted or naturally leavened breads around the world. Without that, a compound such as sodium bicarbonate (baking soda) was necessary to leaven breads made with this na tive wheat. When mixed with an acid such as buttermilk, the baking soda reacts and caus es the bread to rise, making it digestible. But termilk was a by-product of butter making and so was widely available throughout Ire land in the early 1800s, but the baking soda itself had not yet been discovered.

It was isolated in 1801 by a Berlin pharma cist, and only in 1846 did it begin to be used on a wider scale as a baking ingredient, with two American bakers setting up a factory for its commercial distribution. By the 1860s, it had made its way to Irish kitchens where it was often cooked in cast iron pots over the fire. While its popularity has ebbed and

waned in the years since, variations on tradi tional soda bread are still regularly made in kitchens around Ireland. Below is my mother’s soda bread recipe, which is excellent with marmalade or topped with smoked salmon and capers—I hope you enjoy!

Brown Soda Bread

400g of whole-wheat flour (not bread flour, as this has a much higher gluten content) 50g of rolled oats

1 egg, beaten 1 level teaspoon of baking soda

1/2 teaspoon of salt. 475mL buttermilk

1. Preheat the oven to 200°C (400°F) and gr ease a loaf tin.

2. Mix all dry ingredients well. Whisk the egg with the buttermilk, then add this to the dry ingredients to make a soft dough. Be careful not to overmix– the dough should be loose and of a dropping consistency. Put the dough into the loaf tin and brush the top of the dough with a little buttermilk. Put into the hot oven immediately and cook for 45 minutes. Check with a skewer to see if it is cooked through, and tap the bottom of the loaf to hear if there is a hollow sound. Remove from tins and place bottom side up in the oven for a further five minutes.

BLACK HOLES

Pano Giannadakis | Panos is doing his PhD in cosmology at King’s College London.

Black holes are some of the most incredible objects in our universe. In popular science, they are perceived as huge black invisible monsters in the vastness of space, whose gravitational pull is so strong that they de vour entire solar systems, not allowing even light to escape them. However, black holes are way more than just that. Since they were first proposed as potential astrophysical ob jects, they have brought to the front a pleth ora of physics problems and been the gateway to important contributions in several disciplines of physics including gravitation, astrophysics and quantum physics. At pres ent, one of the unsolved and most profound problems regarding black hole physics is the information paradox. In this article, I am go ing to try to review black hole physics and explain why the information paradox is such a puzzling enigma.

A widely ignored fact is that the concept of black holes is actually quite old. We learn in high school about escape velocity, defined as the minimum velocity required for a body to escape from a gravitational field generat ed by a heavy object, given by the following formula v=sqrt(2GM/R^2) where G is New

ton’s constant of gravitation, M is the mass of the massive object and R its radius. For example, the escape velocity to escape the solar system is around 16 km/s. If we set the escape velocity equal to c, the speed of light (which is the maximum possible velocity), then arises a radius of size R_s=2GM/c^2 such that if we shrink an object of any mass to a radius smaller than this critical one, then even light cannot escape from its gravitation al field. This idea was first grasped by Pierre Laplace and other scholars in the 18th cen tury. They called this object a “black star,” which was renamed to ‘black hole’ in the 20th century by Wheeler. The above quan tity for a critical radius with respect to mass is called the Schwarzschild radius. To give some perspective, Earth would become such an object if one could shrink the entire mass of Earth into the size of a chickpea. I need to stress that these assumptions were based on classical Newtonian mechanics and assumed a compact enough astrophysical object.

In 1915, Albert Einstein discovered Gener al Relativity (GR), which forever changed the idea of how we see gravity. In general relativity, space and time are not the static

background of Newtonian physics (where all phenomena take place), but rather a dynamic scene with which bodies can interact. In the context of GR, the geometry of spacetime depends on the distribution of mass and en ergy, and in their absence, geometry has the Euclidean properties we learn at school. But in the vicinity of heavy objects, spacetime is warped. What we perceive as gravity is in the context of GR simply the most natural tra jectory being followed in this warped geometry. This is called a geodesic. Without any presence of mass, the geometry is flat and the geodesic is a straight line according to our intuition and Newton’s First Law.

But let us now discuss a bit more about black holes in the context of GR. The first and simplest solution of Einstein field equa tions of GR is the so-called Schwarzschild solution, which describes the spacetime of a black hole of mass M with zero angular momentum. This spacetime looks asymp totically flat—meaning that the geometry is flat when sufficiently far from the black hole, but becomes highly warped in its close vicinity. At radius r=R_s, what is happen ing is rather odd. The causal structure of spacetime changes in a way that saying r=0 becomes more of a point in the future rath er than a geometric point, in the same way that saying that next weekend implies that it will come no matter what. In this sense, any object crossing this spherical surface of the above radius is sentenced to fall into the cen tre of the black hole sphere. This surface is called the event horizon and it is the physical boundary of a black hole. Admittedly, it ap pears black in the vastness of space because no information including matter or light can escape from the region below, as this would require a velocity faster than the speed of

light, which is the maximal velocity that mat ter and information can be transferred. All matter and energy crossing the event horizon ends up at its centre. This point is called a singularity and it is where general relativity breaks down. The very existence of a singu larity shows that our knowledge of gravity is not full and we need a theory of gravity which works at small scales i.e. compatible with quantum mechanics, called a theory of quantum gravity (this is something I will come back to later). An important difference of a black hole of GR compared to the black star discussed before is that its entire mass exists at one single point. The singularity and the rest is in fact, just empty vacuum. The event horizon is thus the gravitational footprint of an extremely warped spacetime. More black holes solutions have been pro posed to include properties of angular mo mentum and electric charge.

An extraordinary fact regarding black holes is that although they seem like complicated and scary objects with respect to how they curve the spacetime around them, they are actually quite simple and elegant. Firstly, black holes with zero angular momentum, or charge, are perhaps the only perfectly spherical objects. Additionally, the most generic black hole can be characterised by only three quantities: the mass, the angular momentum (spin), and the electric charge. All informa tion about the star which was there before, as well as all the mass and energy that has been swallowed over its lifetime, falls behind the event horizon. Therefore, classically speak ing black holes are some of the simplest ob jects in the universe. However, here is when things start to become a little bit more com plicated. Work during the 60s and 70s proved that black holes are thermodynamic objects

which follow similar laws to the classical laws of thermodynamics that we learn at school. One of the most important discoveries is that black holes have something called Beken stein entropy, which is proportional to the area of the event horizon (S~Area/4). Entro py is a quantity which shows how disordered a system is or how much hidden information it contains. The classical second law of ther modynamics tells us that the entropy of a thermodynamic system can only increase in time and in the same fashion as increases in the area of the black hole. The problem here is that this quantity is not compatible with the description using only the three quanti ties I mentioned before. An entropy propor tional to the area means that there is a huge number of degrees of freedom associated with the area. What those degrees of freedom are remains a problem in physics, although string theory has given some consistent an swers about their nature.

In 1975, Stephen Hawking proved by consid ering quantum fields in the classical space time background of a black hole, using gen eral relativity, that black holes emit thermal radiation which make them lose mass and eventually evaporate. The way to understand the origin of this radiation is the following. According to quantum field theory, the vac uum is characterised by the spontaneous creation of pairs of virtual particles and an tiparticles which then annihilate each oth er. When this happens in the vicinity of the event horizon, which is the causal boundary of spacetime, particles can be emitted from the black holes as radiation and antiparticles fall behind the horizon thus reducing the black hole’s mass. This makes the black hole shrink since its area depends on its mass. Therefore eventually, after an extremely long

period of time (10^100 years, to give a per spective the age of the universe is around 10^10 years), it finally fully evaporates. The issue is that no information can then remain about its past, since the radiation emitted is thermal which means it cannot provide any information about its source. To understand this more clearly, let us imagine a piece of wood on fire. The final state of this wood is, of course, ashes. But theoretically, one could take all the pieces of wood plus the carbon dioxide and steam generated by combus tion, put it together, and recreate the origi nal wood. However, this cannot happen with black holes. All information swallowed by the black hole is still there, provided that an event horizon still exists. But when the event horizon disappears and the area is zero (en tropy as well), then there is no information left and radiation itself has zero information. This is called the information paradox.

I would like to express the information par adox in the context of quantum mechanics. Any quantum system is described by the pos sibility of certain results which are encoded in what we call quantum states (for example, a two-state system is an electron which can have either spin up or spin down), and those quantum states should follow what we call a unitary evolution. This means that when no experimental measurement action takes place, then one should be able to predict the past or the future of its state at any point. Speaking in more technical terms, there exists a unitary time operator under which the quantum state evolves. Here it would be useful to qualitatively describe entropy again in quantum mechanics. The so-called von Neumann entropy is a quantity which can show how pure a quantum state is, or how much hidden information it contains.

When entropy is zero, then the quantum state is considered pure, but what Hawking proved is that the remaining radiation after the end of the evaporation has nonzero en tropy, meaning that its state is not pure. This violates the holy grail principle of quantum mechanics about the unitarity of evolution, and is another way to define information paradox. A remark we should always keep in mind is that the information paradox is a paradox in the context of having quantum physics in a classical spacetime– an approxi mation called ‘semi-classical approximation.’ The only way to address the problem in its full length would be via a theory of quantum gravity, which could explain the nature of gravity at a microscopic level. Unfortunately, we do not possess a consistent enough the ory and therefore the information paradox should be considered our ignorance of the nature of gravity at different scales.

The information paradox is a lingering prob lem in physics and only recently have people managed to find hints of possible solutions. But first let us wonder where this lost in formation could have gone. There are three possible solutions. The first is to accept that information is indeed lost, and black holes do not maintain unitary evolution in their quantum description. This point of view is unanimously rejected as unitarity is regarded as a holy grail for quantum mechanics and such acceptance could shake its very foundations. The second option says that the entire black hole does not evaporate and that at the very end a tiny object called a Planckian relic remains, which contains all the black hole’s information. This point of view, although sounds quite convenient, is not quite accepted because there is no

indication from astrophysical observations that such an object with that extraordinary amount of entropy could exist. This leads us to the final assumption, which says that in some way, we have not comprehended that information could leak during the evapora tion, and hence is not lost.

So, what we need is a gravity theory like GR which contains black hole solutions while allowing the black hole radiation system to respect unitary evolution. An implication of unitarity is that the time evolution of the von Neumann entropy of Hawking radia tion should follow the so-called Page curve. Initially, just after black hole’s formation, the entropy of radiation is very small com pared to Bekenstein entropy (practically zero) and should increase until it reaches a maximum value equal to Bekenstein entropy (where the degrees of freedom of radiation are equal to black hole’s ones), at the Page time t ~ 0.6t_evap. Then it starts decreasing until the final evaporation, where it has a val ue of zero. The usefulness of the Page curve is determined by the fact that its successful derivation by certain gravity theories would indicate that this theory can respect unitari ty. Therefore the information paradox seems to be resolved. The relationship between en tropy, time, the Page curve, and Beckenstein entropy is shown below.

However, we have to emphasise that the Page curve on its own is insufficient in telling us about the final quantum state after evaporation is complete. Notice that Hawking himself strongly disagreed with unitarity, and argued that the entropy of Hawking radiation should increase monotonically from when the black hole is created, eventually settling down when it eventually evaporates. In 2019, two independent research groups found theories which suc cessfully recovered the Page curve. Details of their work is beyond the scope of this article, but the main point is that by using the holographic principle, the entropy of radiation at a late stage of evaporation depends on that of a shrinking spherical surface lying behind the event horizon (called a quantum island) which shrinks along with the black hole as it evaporates. When the evaporation is complete, this surface also vanishes, and the entropy of radiation becomes zero as we desire.

My personal remark on this matter is that the quantum island is a very arbitrary idea without strong physical arguments and that there is therefore much work to be done. The key point is that for the first time we have a gravitational theory which contains black holes without the information problem—which is already extraordinary. However, this theorisation lacks intu ition and physicality. I am confident that we should expect a lot of interesting work on this to be published in the coming years.

QUANTUM TUNNELLING

Nikola Kolev | Nikola is currently work ing on his PhD in nanofabrication at Uni versity College London.

of molecules or smaller. Despite this, it ap pears in much of the natural world in process es crucial to human life: the nuclear fusion that sustains the Sun’s lifeforce would not be possible were it not for quantum tunnelling.

Throughout the short history of science, it has been commonplace for a discovery to have its utility to the wider world questioned. Electricity, for example, was known about for more than 100 years before it finally grad uated from an interesting party trick to a phenomenon that brought about the second industrial revolution in the US. A hundred years ago, quantum mechanics was very much in its infancy and was revolutionising physics. The old classical mechanics, estab lished by Newton in the 1700s, was being pushed aside by young and bright-eyed phys icists. It started with seemingly simple pre dictions: knocking electrons off the surface of a metal with light or predicting the colour of light that a Hydrogen atom absorbs. From an outsider’s perspective, these may have seemed like a bunch of academics splitting hairs and out of touch with the outside world, but this theory has now transformed society.

Quantum tunnelling is somewhat of a buzz word by now and is a regular topic that ap pears within the books of the popular science sections of libraries. If it was commonplace at the macro scale, a tennis ball thrown at a closed-door would at times just pass straight through like a ghost. It is indeed a strange phenomenon that grabs the attention of the reader, but its usefulness is not so obvious, especially since it is only effective on the scale

Since the 80s, it has also been used in labs around the world to study and image mate rials and their surfaces on the atomic scale thanks to the scanning tunnelling micro scope (STM). This device can measure changes in height smaller than a nanometer, which is one billion times smaller than a me tre. To put that in perspective, a nanometer compared to a metre is like comparing a me tre to the diameter of the Sun. It does this by holding a small and very sharp tip just above the surface of a material while in a vacuum and applying a voltage. Since it is in a vac uum, there should not be any flow of elec tricity (which is known as a current). How ever, due to quantum tunnelling, we do in fact measure a minute current, and the size of this current decreases exponentially with the distance between the tip and material re sulting in an extremely sensitive height mea surement. In our macro example of a ball and door, the electrons would be the tennis balls and the door would be the vacuum. The number of balls that we find on the other side would tell us the thickness of the door. To collect a whole image, the STM records the distance between it and the surface for each pixel in the final image. For example, if we wanted a one-megapixel image, we divide the designated area into 1 million square pixels, move the tip sequentially to each square and record the distance. Since every measurement is made separately and the tip

Quantum tunnelling: yet another ‘useless’ scientific discovery.

needs to be moved to each pixel location, one image can take as long as 40 minutes. This pro duces a topography of the surface which appears somewhat like the terrain map on Google Maps. In general, the brighter the colour, the higher the point on the surface.

Figure 1: This scan is 10 micrometres squared in area and shows a Silicon surface. At this scale, atoms are not visible, but we can still make out the atomic step edges. Silicon is a crystal, and so is made up of layers upon layers of atoms. At the surface, a perfectly flat crystal would be just a single layer of atoms. However, real life is not perfect and what we get are these rounded and jagged steps that go from one layer to another. Each of the lines visible is another step edge, and the image decreases in height as we move upwards. The bottom of the image does not appear brightest because of image artefacts that are intrinsic to the STM.

This method can be used to produce scans of surfaces anywhere from microns to nanometers across allowing us to study physical processes on a range of length scales. For example, in Figure 1 (above), we see what looks like a hilly landscape, slowly going downhill as we move upwards. In fact, it shows the surface of an extremely pure and flat silicon wafer. It was produced by the semiconductor industry to be as flat and smooth as possible. Even with their sixty years of expe rience, they are still unable to get the surface perfectly flat, as can be seen by the slope in the figure. The lines that look like contours are steps along the surface, each one being a single atom tall.

Figure 2: This scan is 100nm2. It is a closer look at a Silicon surface like the one seen in Figure 1. The bare Silicon sur face is highly reactive. In the atmosphere, it forms a layer of Silicon dioxide at the surface. This scan was taken in an ul tra-high vacuum where contaminants are extremely unlikely. This results in a very clean surface, meaning we can see the Silicon itself in much more detail. Each layer on the Silicon surface is arranged in rows of paired Silicon atoms, and each layer is rotated 45 degrees with respect to the layer below it. Therefore, in the image above we can see the separate atomic layers of Silicon. The individual atoms are quite subtle to see, but the rows are very clear. Within the rows, there are many dark areas—these are mostly Sili con vacancies, or places where the Silicon atoms are missing for some reason. The layer below should be visible too, but the tip of the STM is not sharp enough to be able to reach inside these tiny holes to get a clear image. There are some brighter circles throughout the scan; these can be due to a variety of surface defects but are usually some sort of contaminant. Even in this ul tra-high vacuum (where the pressure is more than a trillion times smaller than the standard pres sure in a room), we cannot completely rid our environment of unwanted species such as water.

One can then look closer to gain information about the atoms on the surface and how they arrange themselves and bond to each other, which in turn can teach us about the possible chemical reactions and their pathways. The extreme sensitivity in height of the STM al lows us to conjure up images of single atoms and watch them flit and dance on the sur face as they react with oncoming molecules. What’s more, if a large enough voltage is ap plied between the tip and the material, atoms can be pulled around the surface and placed at the user’s will.

Perhaps this sounds like just another party trick; a way to make some pretty pictures for the physicists and chemists to hang up on their walls. However, much has been learned about the surface physics of a range of ma terials. For example, Silicon, the backbone of our modern computing society, has been intensively studied using this technique and many discoveries have been made about the details of its structure and electronic proper ties. A deeper understanding of this material has been crucial in the evolution of the com puter from the giants of the 50s, filling whole rooms, to the elegant handheld devices of today’s generation. In addition, the imaging and manipulation of sole atoms meant the STM was the first instrument truly operating on the nanoscale and set in motion the field of nanotechnology. The transistor, which is the main constituent of all computers, was measured in millimetres only 80 years ago. With an STM, it is possible to make a tran sistor that is a few tens of atoms across, al though it is not the quickest or most practical tool to make such small transistors. What is more exciting for the physicist is the possibil ity to arrange atoms in such a way to allow for quantum simulations—a system of atoms

can be placed in a desired arrangement in the lab, which could allow them to explore quantum phenomena that are too difficult to study in nature. We already do this at the macro scale: before releasing a new car, manufacturers must perform rigorous crash testing to ensure their cars are safe and their predictions about the cars’ behaviour under immense stresses are correct.

There is still a lot more to come from the STM. It is still a relatively new instrument, with many imperfections to be improved upon. The slow scanning rate is the most obvious one; there are currently engineers working on speeding this up, hoping to in crease it from tens of minutes for one scan to dozens of them every second. If this were achieved, we could watch chemical reactions evolving in real-time on the atomic scale. Quantum tunnelling: yet another ‘useless’ scientific discovery.

STARS

Noa Amson | 24.11.2018

Floating, under a layer of clouds

The city, sprawling its web of light below me

Like a smattering of stars, thrown onto Earth’s dark canvas

Above is only sky

Dark greyish blackish brackish sky

All of the non-colours mushing together like a bowl of mushed potatoes

It seems backwards, when looking for stars

To see them on the ground below me

And where I expect to find them Is only a million shades of mashed darkness

Good thing I'm up here, floating in the sky

Tucked in snugly, under my cloud blanket

Where I can clearly see that the true stars, are right beneath me Otherwise,

I may have forgotten to look

FUNCTION, ALGORITHM, IMPLEMENTATION

Franz Hildebrandt-Harangozó | This article, written by Franz, and one of three pieces in this first issue of MOS, deals with three terms that are frequently being used in cognitive science: function, algorithm and implementation.

Functions: Despite growing up with them in math class, I have always struggled with under standing what a function really is. In set the oretic terms, it is a specific mapping between elements of different sets, and more generally it models a relationship between things. How ever, I think a valid and helpful way to put it is that a function is a mode of description. It describes something—it describes the specific way in which things change.

Take a look at this function below.

‘okay, it’s random!’, or we can try to capture the specifics of the abstract shape of change that is occurring.

We could, for example, look at it and say “oh, the first element is getting mapped to the second element and the second to the first and the same happens with the third and fourth elements!”. Then when we look at the next state, we realize that we have another bit vector once again but it seems to have been due to the same transition function.

So the order of the numbers is different but the shape of the change between the num bers is the same. Perhaps we are onto something here.

The abstract shape of the observable and de scribable changes would be the shape of the function, which I drew as a combination of arrows. But you can of course write it down with symbols, or as a curve in a coordinate system, or using whichever notation you pre fer—that’s not important here.

All of this gives you predictive power; it al lows you to know what the next state is go ing to look like. If you apply the shape of the function to the left bit vector, you end up with the right bit vector.

Here we have a bit vector which is a set of in formation that we can call a state. This state changes into another state; now, if we want to describe what is happening we can just say

You then realize that it’s a cyclical thing, the states repeat each other. And maybe after a thousand iterations something else happens and you realize: ‘Oh, I didn’t describe it ex actly right, I just approximated the shape of the change. So I just approximated the func tion—I did function approximation.’

Now, it is important to say here that this is not about ones and zeros. This is about some element that inhabits a first position within a descriptive framework, that ends up getting mapped to the second position. If we run this using the alphabet, it would map A to B, B to A, resulting in B,A,D,C.

A more relatable example would be a four legged animal, in this case a horse. When the horse is trotting, it moves its legs in a diago nal fashion and so kind of approximates our function. Because at every iteration, the first leg ends up at the second position, second leg at the first and the same happens with the third and fourth leg.

regularity in the changes between the pat terns. We then select the next element , which we can only do if we approximate the func tion, otherwise it wouldn’t work. We have to find the invariances in the variances—on the surface, everything is changing, but in actu al fact something is not changing—certain components of the change stay constant. And the consistency of the changes can be captured by a function.

Now, let’s get less abstract.

A very famous example from functionalist philosophy is the drink vending machine.

When we take part in psychological exper iments that include some basic cognitive tests, there can be tasks where we are pre sented with a series of abstract patterns and we have to select the next correct element.

What our mind is doing here is in a very lit eral sense abstract function approximation, because we have to understand if there is a

Anything that takes in a coin and gives out a drink can be described as a drink vend ing machine, right? This is the function of a drink vending machine. There can be nothing in this world that is like a zombie drink vending machine where it takes coins, it gives out drinks but it’s not really a drink vending machine. Below would be the drink vending machine function.

Of course, there is an unbounded number of ways or series of steps— algorithms so to speak—that you can take to turn a coin into a drink. For example, a few are suggested on the right.

You can have unboundedly many algorithms (super annoying long se ries of steps) to get this outcome— just imagine that to every algorithm computing this function, you could just add one extra useless step and to get a different algorithm that still computes the same function.

The difference between algorithm and implementation is less obvi ous, because in some sense the bor der you draw between algorithm and implementation only depends on the level of detail you want to use to describe a system. So it all comes down to the same thing in the end, but let’s not bother with this right now.

Let’s just look for possible imple mentations of these vending machine algorithms. For example the first algorithm could be imple mented in a machine that: takes in a coin, releases a bottle down a hatch, a hatch opens, and a drink comes out. Or a machine that takes in a coin, some mechanism mixes different liquids into a cup, a hatch opens, and a drink comes out.

It gets more obvious if we look at two different implementations of the same algorithm.

For example the drink mixing algorithm below:

One thing is a house, the other thing is a machine, but both things perform the vending ma chine function. Here we have two different implementations that are realizing the same algo rithm that is computing the same function.

Once again, you can have an unbounded number of implementations for the same algorithm because the house could be made of stone or wood or whatever.

So there you have it: function, algorithm and implementation.

First level, the functional level: what does it do? Well, it turns coins into drinks.

Second level, the algorithmic level: what series of steps does the system take in order to turn a coin into a drink?

And the third level, the implementational level: how is one of these algorithms actually real ized in a specific case?

Initially, I mentioned that function, algorithm and implementation are being used in the cog nitive sciences a lot. Why is this?

Obviously our mind is slightly more complicated than a vending machine—it does not turn coins into drinks. However, what it can do for example is turn a certain spectrum of electro magnetic waves into a three-dimensional colour space that we are all experiencing. And it can turn density fluctuations in the air around us into distinct sounds that follow certain rules and can be mapped to chords or scales, which gives rise to melodies.

Our mind can then combine the melody and colour space in order to observe the specific ways in which things change and construct ideas, assumptions and and beliefs regarding these changes. This allows it to form abstract concepts over these beliefs which eventually get turned into desires and motives, which turn into intentions. These intentions get turned into motor commands and eventually muscle movements that feed the intentions back into the real world.

So, the human mind is slightly more complicated than a vending machine, but describable within the same framework of function, algorithm, and implementation.

A GCF Interview | The interviewer and interviewee discuss the development of an alcohol-free clubbing night at the Garnethill Community Centre in Glasgow, Scotland.

Define Good Clean Fun and what you do?

Good Clean Fun puts on alcohol-free parties around the city of Glasgow. The parties are heavily inspired by David Mancuso’s Loft parties which began in the 1970s; like Man cuso, we want to emphasise the communal aspect of parties and have a music policy that is broad and open-minded.

The parties are aimed at those in recovery from alcohol and substance abuse and those who are curious about stopping/cutting down. We also welcome non-sober folk who want to spend time and have fun with their sober loved ones or fancy having a night off it for a change.

What inspired you to start Good Clean Fun? Would you mind giving us a brief history of its development?

There were a few reasons. Most simply and from a personal point of view; I’ve been crav ing a sober space to go to in Glasgow where I can listen to interesting music, have a good dance and hang out with nice folk.

When I stopped drinking I would still go out now and again to ‘wet’ spaces, but find it chal lenging. As time went on, I started to think that maybe it was better to create the spaces and parties I wanted to be in rather than set tle for something I wasn’t 100% feeling.

From a broader perspective; I’ve seen from my time in sober communities that there is no ‘silver bullet’ for recovery and that a ho listic approach is most effective. This means having support for the mental and physical health side of things but also the social, which is the aspect I felt was lacking in Glasgow. Being able to hang out with pals sober is a crucial part of recovery as it shows that there are good times to be had beyond alcohol. Many people feel that they need some sort of help to stop or cut down their drinking but are unable or unwilling to access formal

avenues of support. GCF offers a more relax ed space to meet other sober people and learn about recovery which might then lead people to have the confidence and desire to seek out other support that is available. Sober social spaces also offer the opportunity to meet oth er sober people and build a community.

I’ve also noticed that there is a lack of connec tion between the music and sober communi ties in Glasgow. It seems that those involved in the music and nightlife spaces feel that they have to leave this part of their lives behind if they wanna get sober. So Good Clean Fun is also offering a way for music and nightlife lovers to stay involved in the scene but in a way that is safe and enjoyable for them.

The first party was in December 2021. It sold out and had a lot of positive feedback and we’ve put on another 3 since then. We have a third party planned for the 3rd of December.

night out and drink and take loads of stuff and feel great at the time, and then terrible for the next 4 days. Our sober parties avoid this cause when you’re not getting the high feeling synthetically, you’re not getting the crash later.

In terms of how to actually achieve all this I’m choosing spaces that are a lot softer than usual club spaces; so big bright halls and rooftops etc. as opposed to basements or industrial warehouses. Also less intense lighting and a high fidelity sound system that doesn’t fuck your ears. It would be great to have one like they had at the loft or lucky soundsystem. Sound systems don’t need to be that loud; I think a skillful DJ can build energy with the crowd without having to in crease the volume or bass as much.

What do you hope people will feel at a Good Clean Fun event, and how do you curate an atmosphere in which this is most likely to happen?

Relaxed and joyful during and rejuvenated afterwards. With non-sober parties this relaxed and joyful feeling can be achieved with alcohol and drugs quite easily and I’ve been thinking deeply about how to foster and encourage this atmosphere without them. I think it’s important to point out the fact that it happens in other areas of life already (kids’ parties, team sports, recovery support groups, yoga and meditation classes etc.) so this clearly shows that it is possible.

I also think it’s important to think about how we want people to feel after. I could go on a

I’m in talks with a couple of lighting and set designers so that hopefully once the parties develop a little more we can invest in de sign elements to create the vibe we’re going for. But at the moment the nice vibe is just happening quite naturally because the peo ple that helping put them on and the people who are attending all seem to be on a simi lar wavelength.

Music wise we are open-minded but again more on the groovier and softer side of things. Our residents’ Queer History of Dance Mu sic focus on funk, boogie, jazz and disco etc.

Currently your events are safe spac es, accessible to all, hosted in friendly venues with friendly faces. However, as events get bigger and more popular, it can be harder to maintain this ‘safe space’ and clean feeling. Is this something GCF is concerned about, and if

so, how will you continue to make sure its events stay accessible and keep that same friendly, safe, and fun energy that people love?

Yeah, this is something that I’m very con scious of. I went to a festival down in En gland in its inaugural year in 2018 and had such a blast and then went again in 2020 and it was still good but there was a notable change in vibe.

I think it happens when parties grow too quickly, or when event organisers and pro moters get greedy and concern about money becomes the driving force—so I’m keeping all this in mind. I’m realising that money does need to be considered so that the par ties can become sustainable, but I think you can definitely ‘feel’ it when a party is being put on with the primary purpose to make a big profit as opposed to bringing a bunch of people together for a good time.

Although I envision that we continue using the Garnethill Multicultural Centre space, it would be good to continue to seek out inter esting venues like The Refuweegee Rooftop now and again.

Longer term, some sort of festival would be really good. Recovery Connects put on a day festival in Glasgow a few weeks ago with over 1000 people attending, demon strating that it can be done and that there are enough people with an appetite for it. There’s something about being outside and camping that I love, and so it would be cool to do a sober one across a full weekend in a field somewhere near Glasgow.

As the parties have grown and more folk be come involved it’s definitely something I’ll have to be more and more conscious of, but so far the parties have attracted like-mind ed people so the family vibe has just sort of happened. Folk on the door and bar have all been close friends or family, and sound and venue folk are friends or friends of friends.

What is your vision for GCF in the fu ture, and how do you see GCF evolving and moving forward?

At the moment we’re focussing on putting on parties consistently throughout the year to develop a core following. It’s been great seeing a lot of the same faces at the parties.

Heavy Petal is an explora tion of adornment. Dried flowers, gold leaf, and found objects are suspended in res in. These modern fossils are then sliced, filed, and com bined to make wearable ear rings and other keepsakes. These are not the family jew els or investment pieces of the classic jewellery market. They are the product of the desire to create something precious out of humble ma terials. Each piece is unique and handmade in Paris.

Bubble Music London | “The artists were the stars, hosting the space with con fidence and humility and happily starting conversations with people about their work.”

Define Bubble and what you do.

Bubble is a brand and vibe which is expressed through club nights, socials, get-togethers and art exhibitions. We don’t like defining it as a club night or as a cultural event, because it’s much more about the people that come together, in whatever place and for whatever reason, and the vibe that we all create togeth er—that’s Bubble.

What inspired you to start Bubble? Would you mind giving us a brief history of Bubble?

One day, I was in the basement room of my mum’s flat, and we had some loud mu sic blar ing. Francis and I randomly turned to each other and said, ‘we should put on a club night.’

It came from a frustration really. We were DJ ing a lot, spending lots of time and money on getting the best music, and we knew we were sick. We wanted to DJ in London clubs, but no one would give us a chance—so we said, ‘fine, we’ll just do it ourselves.’

We then got in contact with a club I’d been to before via email. Amazingly, because I’ve learnt since it usually isn’t this easy, they re plied, asking when we’d like to throw an event. ‘17th of March, please.’ And so that day, in 2017, we threw our first Bubble club night.

itself. We spent hours pretty much every day, talking, thinking, imagining. We would spend days and weeks discussing the name of our event—it was going to be called ‘Bubblegum’ for a long time—and the logo, and the brand image, et cetera. We drew loads of doodles, got loads of opinions, and worked really, really hard. I’ve always thought that it was from that great foundation that Bubble owes a lot of its charm and success.

Then when the 17th of March did come around, we ended up selling out our first night—we’d created a brand that people could admire but relate to.

But for Francis and I, the lead up to the event was as magical and eye-opening as the night

What do you hope people will feel at a Bubble event, and how do you curate an atmosphere in which this is most likely to happen?

We want to create a vibe of togetherness primarily, which is achieved through accep tance of any kind of expression. In that re spect, everyone is welcome, and welcome to be themselves. We don’t get pissed if randoms

dance on stage or find their way into the green room; we don’t get pissed if people are shouting ‘go on DJ!’ on the dancefloor; we don’t get pissed if people want to be com pletely sober or super fucked up.

Bubble is a noun—to be inside the Bub ble, the group, the collective. And it’s a verb too—to Bubble, to dance, to jive. That’s what we want people to feel; that’s what we want to create.

This summer, Bubble hosted an art exhibition which was also a night of music and dancing. How did the energy and feeling differ (if at all) from other nights you’ve thrown?

The overarching energy that I’ve just de scribed in the last answer didn’t differ. But in terms of the night itself, of course.

It was more conversational, and we were very conscious, until at least the sun went down, that the art would take precedence over the music.

The artists were the stars, hosting the space with confidence and humility, happily starting conversations with people about their work.

It was a moving experience in many ways, from the planning process right through to the execution of the night. We didn’t care about art degrees or artist ‘hype’—we just wanted to put up great art, made by great people, in a great space.

But when the sun did go down, the music got turned up. There was a sense, as there is at every Bubble night, that this is a unique event. But this one was particularly unique.

I always compared the feeling to running a marathon, with the night itself being the morning after you have finished. It’s a feeling of tired, euphoric relief—that was the energy.

Cost is something that can be prohibi tive for people in accessing art, culture, and nightlife. Is this something Bubble is concerned about, and if so, how will Bubble continue to make sure its events stay accessible and keep that same friendly, bubbly energy that people love?

One thing we do consciously is always keep prices reasonable and below market rates, and if a venue is too expensive and would mean we would have to increase our prices, we know that wouldn’t be a venue for us.

Moreover, we make free stuff and give it to people—key rings, magazines, merchandise. Bubble is more about passion than profit, and that is an ethos which will always under pin it.

Obviously, I’m not going to deny that we do seek to make some profit—but only so we can sustain putting on great events at low prices for people.

What is your vision for Bubble in the future, and how do you see Bubble evolving moving forward?

Our vision is to continue putting on great events. We wouldn’t say we necessarily want to go ‘bigger’ in terms of venue capacities, but we always want to throw varied and in teresting events.

For example, the Bubble Picnic was a free park party, with free drinks, free music and loads of fun competitions on the Heath! Then, perhaps sometime in the New Year, we want to throw a 7-day art and music exhibi tion, where the artists and DJs do talks and events on each day of the run.

We also have a lot of art stunts and ambient advertising we really want to pull off.

And, last not be least, we want to continue what we ultimately do best; putting on great club nights, with fantastic DJs and experi mental musical elements, like our famous incorporations of horn instruments.

Ultimately, though, our vision is to be the hub of a community of passionate creatives, which share our creativity through events. As long as we can keep doing that, we’re happy.

PEACE & LOVE X STAY BUBBLY!

MOSHUP APP

Johannes Pfahler | Johannes is a photogra pher and app developer based in Berlin. You can see more of his unique projects and colourful work on Instagram @pytebyte.

When you record a video, it is compressed (encoded) to occupy less disk space on your phone. Most often the video codec H264 is used which is a standardised set of rules/tricks to con vert the video in a smaller format without losing too much information. The video frames are mainly stored as I-Frames or P-Frames. I-Frames can be imagined as regular images. They are used in the first frame of the video, and again each time the scene changes. P-Frames are used in between the I-Frames. In P-Frames the video codec analyses and stores only the differences in movement, colour, and brightness change. When you play around with the final video stream by removing or adding I or P-Frames, it is called datamoshing. Imagine a vid eo of a person, which then has a scene cut showing a car driving by. If you remove the first I-Frame of the car scene, the texture of the person would still be on the screen. The movement of the car (stored in the following P frames) would deform the person. Two years ago, I made an app called MoshUp which made it very easy to play around with datamoshing possi bilities on smartphones in real time. It was a huge success on TikTok and started kind of a datamoshing hype. You are able to experiment with your environment by combining similar shapes, textures, motions or materials. For example, by mapping a cloudy sky onto a tree moving in the wind, or pretending to push your hand into a brick wall but then switching to a soft pillow surface. The image you see here is the result when you re peat one P frame over and over again.

CUZINO MUSIC

Reuben Cantacuzino | Instagram: @cuzino_ & Soundcloud: @cuzinoo

I’ve had music in my life for a long time, but only started creatively playing around with mu sic production about 4 years ago. In the last couple of years I’ve been focusing on it more seriously, experimenting with what I want my sound to be. I make electronic music inspired by elements of techno, house and pop. Lately, I’ve found the revival of 90s house really ex citing and love the incorporation of 90s house drum patterns with modern sounds and technology. I’m currently gathering the experience and inspiration to complete my first full project. I’m still in the early stages of this and allowing myself to explore where my creativity takes me and to not be restricted if my inspiration comes from surprising places.

ASTROLOGY TODAY

MOS Horoscopes | The best excuses for your star sign and how to deliver them.

Across the world, in all systems and cultures, at the end of the day, everyone has to either work, or eventually, through various ways: die.

But what if we wanted to skip that for a day? Forget about our obligations of working or dying and just live? Maybe you’re having family issues (we’ve all had those), romantic problems (these too), a travelling crisis (TfL strikes, anyone?), or perhaps you just need a day for your self. How do we get out of it without diminishing our status at work and losing hard-earned social capital?

Welcome to the world of solid excuses; paired with their associated astrological sign (as are cheeses and fine wines), these can help you take the most appropriate course of action.

Firstly, I feel obligated to mention that while this article is based on accurate astrological read ings and interpretations, please do not make your decisions using it exclusively. Astrology can instead be seen as a loose guide—an imperfect lens through which to evaluate our lives. Still, there’s no merit (or fun) in dismissing it completely—astronomy and astrology only split in the 18th century, which is quite recent if you ask me.

The structure of this piece will be to list excuses based on a star sign, and then associate rea sons and an astrological explanation to optimise delivery of the excuse and its desired result. It’s showtime.

Fire signs: Passionate, Creative, Impulsive and Energetic

1. Sickness, fever

The Aries zodiac is the sign of spring in the cardinal modality and represents classical values such as leadership or rationality, but also new beginnings. Sickness, which is in this case seen as a new beginning, can take over very quickly. Employers will want to avoid letting a case of fever spread across the company, thus making for a perfect excuse. Illness is a widely accepted reason and probably the best one given the current atmosphere surrounding the spread of viruses.

2. Caring for a sick pet

Leos are the star sign of summer; they are stable, reliable and persistent. They love animals and would prioritise the health of their companion above all. Caring for a sick pet who has

suddenly fallen very ill can therefore be quite in-character—just don’t give in to stubbornness and keep the excuse short. Avoid oversharing or building a tangled web that may be difficult to climb out of.

3. Car and/or internet troubles

Sagittarius is the sign of fall changing into winter. Known to be ever adaptable and versatile, they can sadly be of no help to the company’s efforts when they cannot reach work. The me chanic might be taking ages to fix their car leaving them not knowing how long it will take, or perhaps you need to stay there to approve the repairs. Be careful with the restlessness that can sometimes be associated with the sign; in particular, stay off of social media.

Air signs: Emotional, Social, Indecisive, Communicative

4. You have a burst pipe

This happens more often than you’d think, especially in older houses, and in the United King dom of (not so well built) Great Britain. When a pipe bursts and water starts leaking out, it can sometimes go unnoticed for days, but when it is located, the problem must be solved as a mat ter of emergency. Aquarius are empathetic and reliable neighbours who would make sure that the flooding is fixed as soon as possible, and they may shoulder the responsibility of letting in all the mechanics—especially if elderly neighbours are involved. As an air sign, Aquarius can become emotional, annoyed and frustrated with neighbourhood complaints and delays in re pairs. But, as most Aquarius would agree, it’s important to take care of the people around you.

5. Your power is cut and needs urgent repairs

Our Geminis may have to rely on some of their communicativeness and explain a little more about the problem than I’d normally recommend. Most power issues are on the provider’s side or can be fixed by flicking the breaker on and off. For a day of respite, you’ll need some sort of wiring damage. Be yourself—let your versatile and adaptable nature shine through, and do a bit of research about what kind of power issue makes sense for your house.

6. Mental health day

Libras are autumn signs; they are traditional, natural leaders, rational thinkers, and sometimes demonstrate aggressive or overly cautious behaviour. A mental health day (especially if you have a history of mental illness) could be a plausible excuse for this sign. Maybe it’s worth taking a look at your company’s policies.

Earth signs: Practical, Methodical, Stubborn, Realistic

7. Having a family emergency

In the busy and ambitious life of a typical Capricorn, you may be a person that your family and friends depend on when they have no one else to turn towards. An emergency can arise at any moment: perhaps your relative got arrested and you need to bail them out. Time to use the peace and stability characterising the personality of this winter solstice sign and be a leader. Clutch your inner integrity and use it to craft a great excuse.

8. You have food poisoning

Tauruses have a strong desire for social and corporate stability, but also for novelty, extrava gance and greatness, which may bring them closer to rare delicacies and therefore this excuse. Food poisoning can be debilitating, but mentioning it can seem TMI (too much informa tion)—usually just say you’re generally ill and subtly hint at the reason. Companies aren’t sup posed to ask, but we know that many do—try to fight your anger and get through the call-in. If you manage to do this, you’ll have green pastures all day.

9. You’re caring for a sick child or family member

The diligent and consistent Virgo is more likely to have knowledge in methodical and practical skills such as medicine. Colleagues probably wouldn’t be suspicious if a relative (especially a vulnerable younger or older person) needed you around to care for them. The potentially perfectionist nature of Virgo may make them worried about caring for their family—trust you are doing the best you can and this excuse can work wonders.

Water signs: Emotional, Perceptive, Hypersensitive, Compassionate

10. Emergency dentist appointment

The cardinal water sign, Cancer is empathetic, hence more able to feel the pain and suffering of others. Hopefully this worldview extends to the workplace as well and the colleagues will be wincing and flinching when you tell them about your ‘biting’ pain. Cancer’s empathy can be their own downfall; be careful not to let manipulation get to you—some excuses you can’t get out of once you make them.

11. Moving houses or helping an elderly/vulnerable relative do so

Pisces are very friendly and often seek out the company of different people. Having many friends and close relatives can be wonderful, but it also can mean that sometimes they need your support. Usually you’d schedule a move at least a week or two in advance, so you’d need

some sort of special scenario. Maybe a fire, a flood, or even things like pests or an eviction, which create a sense of urgency and severity. Be the gentle and wise being that you know your self to be and act serious and determined. Don’t let any fear of the world stop you!

12. Migraine

To end on another very good excuse, migraines are especially great because you can easily use them as an excuse even when you are already at work. Be a master manipulator (like some Scorpios can be) and know how to feign it; migraines are severe headaches felt as a throbbing pain on one side of the head. Many people also have other symptoms such as feeling sick, vomiting and increased sensitivity to light or sound. Scorpios are deeply emotional and intense in the things that they do. Tap into that emotional power, build on your intelligence and play the equivalent of your best Broadway performance. It will be worth it.

IN SHORT:

Occasionally, even the most punctual and reliable people need to get out of work on short notice. Coming up with a reason that will hurt neither our bosses’ feelings nor our reputation at work is no easy task.

If you use one of the excuses above and tell your manager briefly and directly that you’re not going to be able to come into work that day, you’ll give yourself the best chance at getting a day off without raising suspicion or suffering any consequences. The method of delivery (call vs email) depends on your job and your excuse—and make sure to notify your employer as soon as possible. Don’t wait until the last minute if you can help it. By getting it done as quick ly as possible, the anxiety of the unknown is also alleviated. Communication is key!

Finally, be ready for follow-up questions when you return to work. These don’t necessarily indicate that your boss is suspicious; they can simply show that they care enough to check that your situation is better now.

About the author:

Hi, I’m Z! I spend a lot of time contemplating the world around us and the most accurate lens to see it through. Philosophy, Art, Physics, Chemistry, Maths, Astrology? All of them may be viable (as far as we know) and there are no completely serious or correct answers. But do not be dismayed, it’s liberating to not know your purpose—mine for now will be venturing through a few of my favourite lenses. Perhaps we’ll find the right one together!

Source: https://blog.prepscholar.com/zodiac-symbols-signs

EUOLOGY TO AN OLD FRIEND

September 16th, 2022: On this day, we lost our special Bella after 16 loyal and loving years. She was living at the farm, her home away from home.

Bella loved food and walks and her people. She loved nothing more in the village than to go for a wander to ‘inspect’ people’s composts, or to check for snacks dropped under a picnic table at the cafe. She might have even managed to snag a burger off the neighbour’s barbeque if she was lucky.

Bella was very waggy (her entire body rippled when she wagged), and she smiled when she was happy to see you. She was a great communicator, sometimes annoyingly so as she was also very determined. She knew the routine at home and would remind you if you were a little late with breakfast or when it was time to go out.

Bella hated thunderstorms and loud noises. The worst day of the year for her was the fireworks show at the school on the island—she would hide under the bed until it was over.

When the kids were little, she would stay upstairs until all of them were up and awake before coming down to the kitchen. She was very intuitive and attentive like that; she seemed to un derstand how people were feeling. She loved affection, but on her terms! She was not a cuddly dog, but loved a scratch on her back and belly when she felt like it. And to not stop until she felt like it either :)

She had an excellent sense of people– usually lick ing those who really hated it the most! One day whilst out walking in a remote area with the kids, a strange man came along in his car. He stopped the car and started trying to get out. Bella wasn’t very happy about that plan and she convinced him he should get back in his car and go away.

More than anything, Bella was always there. She was part of the family, she witnessed everything. Through thick and thin, Bella was cheerful and loving and always there.

Thank you Bella for your love and devotion. What joy our furry friends can bring to our lives.

Tomorrow, tomorrow

The very last frontier

Hold me tightly please stand beside me, dear

The pulsating hum of a busy nightclub

Or factory

Or beehive

Or of your little brother begrudgingly mowing the lawn outside the kitchen window

Street fights, street food

Steep hills street lights

A 24-hour Spar at 2am

‘1 extra-large full-fat Coca-Cola please’

An early morning, before the dew has been dried from the blades of grass

Why do we like these things? Why do we hate these things?

Why do we FEEL these things?

What even are these things!

These are the frontiers we will bridle, together Bring your straw hat, but prepare for rainy weather

Stand close to me, dear Don’t leave me alone Hold me tightly then anywhere, I’ll be home

… you just lost the game :)

FOLLOW: @MIND.OCEAN.SPACE

CONTACT: MIND.OCEAN.SPACE@GMAIL.COM DESIGNED BY: COOPERCDESIGN@GMAIL.COM MIND OCEAN SPACE ISSUE 01 | 11 2022