The quality of film is just so charming. It really melds the photo together with neither the lights or the blacks blowing out but retain a feeling of measured contrast. Or, you just got it right on in camera :P.
I think the composition really works here with the grey tones of the street leading to the store and bright lights only to cut into black sky. The two spot lights and the A shaped light in the center does look like a face to me, like the center portion could open up as a mouth and tall all stop motion style - but that’s just me 🤓
Just wanting to clarify a difference from the copy paste edit, particularly the claim about cyberpsychosis. Here’s the paragraph from the article, parentheses are my addition:
A new Edgerunners perk allows you to even surpass that (the limit of cyberware), while accepting some penalties, like having a health debuff. “It’s all about this balance between risk and reward,” Sasko explained. “We are not going as far as the introduction of cyberpsychosis though, have that in mind.”
I would probably enjoy some gameplay mechanic of cyberpsychosis but I’m not sure how they would pull that off outside of a scripted story sequence. For the most part, players are already gunning down everyone in the room, so cyberpsychosis only has meaningful impact if you end up killing someone you wanted to protect. I imagine it would be hard for that situation to show up organically.
That worked for me. Logging in was as easy as logging in here on browser.
There's More to the Width of a Line
Grit on my skin. Flowing, softer with the light and cut down the middle. There's more to the width of a line / bisected the fullness of an atom not merely divided. I am burst into light. Evading and evaporating. Shadows contour the ground, Harsh edges form and beg to burst as well, to bathe every surface in that vastness of spirit. but, it requires compression. The distinction between forces and the energy to move between them. The will is. Like a shadow, the evidence. Catching, in a gasp, as the pendulum of self slides through that razor-thin line.
I remember softness
The gaps between my memory and the way we felt about it. Shade, shadows, edges of “I’m sorry” return the shape of something I couldn’t see. I try to make connections. I’m not sure if it’s pareidolia or poignant. I’m left with leaves on the ground, desire growing like grasses, and pits where I cannot.
Though, I remember softness. The kind that is inviting and patient. Natural and, asks for nothing. I stayed too long, my impression is that I pressed my weight into you and left you wilted.
What I cannot see is if you ever rebounded. Rose from the earth, your head at a gentle angle and with a single inhalation regained that soft countenance.