Seven years of posting blockchain-side and someone could reconstruct me.

In fact, ask AI to have a convincing conversation with me based on my writing and you'll get something that is a fair enough semblance - enough to make me want to delete all my work.

Is there a code for that, so I can do it quickly and efficiently?

Because, cringe.

I am not these posts - I am shifting, fluid, moonlight on water.

Go back ten, twenty years and the people that have shuffled off this mortal coil might have less of a footprint. Perhaps they valued privacy, or were more invested in real life than digital spaces.

When I search for him, there are four photos, and a funny Instagram post which is captioned: 'man peeing with dog lookout', showing said dog and man on a Melbourne street. I'm still told I'd be friends with him. Thanks Meta. I was. Am. Was.

I wonder at that - reducing a post to four photos.

A bird in flight, light on the river, a wave caught in time on a shore washed in late Autumnal sun.

All impermanent.

These fleeting moments also subject to digital rot.

Don't you reconstruct me

Feed my archives & algos to a machine,
have it answer in my cadence,
my rhythms,
wearing my robes
stitched from digital skins.

These selves -

The Buddha sits unmoved,
one hand earth-side.

Please don't fossil me in HTML,
nor JPEGs & PNGs,
broken GIFs,
who you thought I was
last Tuesday.

I'm moonlight trembling on water.

once the dead left lighter footprints.

Now everything trapped in code
sleeping in the archives
of other social medias.

I wonder at the sadness of reduction.
As though a human being
could be contained.

A bird lifting from the shoreline,
light scattered across a river,
a wave caught briefly
in late autumn sun.

Even this digital mirror rots.

Servers fail
The archive crumbles
Digital sand
sweeps me away