The ocean echoes against jagged rocks without a splash — the sound of the waterfall is muted, like a phone set to silent so it doesn’t interrupt someone else’s cable-bound conversation. I chose a landscape that once served as the “default” background for early digital calendars: it promises freedom, yet subconsciously makes you want to close the window. The footage was captured by a delivery drone, circling a fixed trajectory, and with each loop the “connection stand-by” message drifts slightly, as if the horizon itself were splitting. The water appears thick, almost poppy-red, but only because a hidden “message not delivered” channel tints the blues with a trace of crimson. After twenty loops, the glassy sky begins to twitch — laced with the static of a 1998 screensaver, triggering a déjà vu: I’ve seen this before, but don’t remember where. The moment when the mountains briefly fold into symmetry is key — that’s when the algorithm checks whether the mind is ready to accept the seascape as background, not destination. I held the frame three ticks longer than normal to let in the feeling of a gentle lockdown: the luggage is packed, boarding called, but the sea never sends a wave, leaving the viewer suspended in an endless surf no one hears. Solar.w