Her hands are in a prayer position
when she says, "Forget me."
I lost track of the pain-
Accumulated from the injustices humanity has suffered.

There is no alternate timeline to escape to.
You never died and came back to life.
We are here, both of us, for 20 or 30 years-
And there is no such thing as forever.

I will die someday, And I want it to be a peaceful death.
I will not linger in the bardo and think of you
I will dig up my karmic seeds,
Uproot the plants they've become.
My reflection will be yours.
{take, Lord, and receive all my liberty}
The tree is split in half
{my memory, my understanding
and my entire will}
But the rhizome still remains.

Yet there is no such thing as forever.
There is only "out of time" or "in time."
And I wonder-why do you lie?
There is a moment when my hands stay in prayer,
For people like you to stop.

In the distance, I see your shadow stretch across the city.
You have grown more powerful than before.
You hide your power beneath an emotional mask.
You are aggressive-
Unable to stop craving the feeling of longing itself If there is an eye that sees you,
It is mine.

I was inside you,
Beneath you,
Above you,
Beneath you-
But now,
I am over you.

There is no halfway with someone who has sold their soul.

Post-angelic hauntology is a post-offsite exhibition: part of a constellation of artmaking practices that begin with the image as their primary home. Physical installations happen ritualistically in forests and bedrooms but they are staged primarily to produce images that will circulate through online networks.

First proposed in 2022 as a digital castle for logged-off users, post-angelic hauntology developed over three years within the backrooms of solo show online, through private messages and shattered heart-lockets and the silent hearts of abandoned avatars. The curators who laid its foundations experienced what the show would come to express: the impossbility of maintaining aesthetic presence across fragmenting networks and the equal impossibility of leaving, which is a pattern that has repeated endlessly across online culture. The exhibition is structured as a chapter-based storyline and it unfolds across two sister locations that are familiar sites of solo show's projects: the bedroom and the forest. Each location functions as a save state in gaming terms for discrete routes that contain specific karmic conditions and aesthetic frequencies.

Its narrative centers on a vanished girl who flees bedroom convent for forest cabin. She attempts to block what she calls angelic frequencies but exit proves impossible; she still dreams the bedroom, she still receives the signals. Her costume (post_egirl fallen-clone schizo-waifu doll) is both stigmata and armor; the logged-off users haunt in the form of cenotaph. The bedroom at the show's center is simultaneously aemmonia's specific room and something like platonic form: the bedroom where aesthetic-girls have staged their interior since the internet began. Under platform conditions, the hikikomori room became the studio where selfhood performed for false gods until the weight became unbearable. Every girl who fled her own version of this room will recognize it; every girl still inside it will see what she's building or what's building around her.

(...)

In the online-apophantic lies a snare that makes heartbreak almost inevitable (...) "If you're trapped in the dream of the Other, you're fucked." Everyone’s desiring through mythology's desire in the brightly-lit mirror room where everything reflects everything and everything is constantly communicable. Spirit quickened by cybernetic accelleration expands without limit and those not destined for elevation shatter into the earth; they bleed into it as nitzotzot do and they shine and they shine in the darkness underground.

{Post-angelic hauntology is} ... a playable system that evolves through repeated engagement. You can't complete the show in single visit; it requires attention across repeated returns. The vanished girl keeps building the frequency-blocking machines in the dark; they probably do not work; she builds them anyway.

-- from Post-Angelic Hauntology: Frequency Blocking Machines and Metaxu, fragment.doll