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Sometimes you’re surfing the web and you lose your balance.

Your board shoots out from under you, and suddenly you’re tumbling, flailing, breaking against the breaking waves. Water shoots up your nose, and there’s nothing but froth and spray as you are flung, enveloped, imbibed by the water and you

and you are a hyper text transfer protozoa in the primordial soup of the world wide web, and the ebb and the rush of the open ocean’s tide is turning you ‘round, float: left and luring, cradling, coaxing you down the water column-gap, whispering promises in a language of salt and semantics, pulling at your ankles and you

you could be here forever—you could make a life here forever, cross-hatched and folded by the current, flex-boxed and text-wrapped, half-limp, finger-clicking link after link after link, as the internet archive fills your lungs and wikimedia’s weight drags you down, further and further, and you circle into webrings like whirlpools, down, down, to where there is no light, spinning ‘round, and ‘round, and ‘round, centrifugal twirl like tumble dry if you weren’t so soaked in aria mislabels and thirty-year-old footer gifs like billboards at the geo-city limits and pixel-perfect mockups best viewed at 800𐍇600 and crafted so lovingly in photoshop and frankensteined so carefully into schools of tr’s and th’s and td’s darting past in the whirling maelstrom and the frames of your vision and—

and then you are flung out into the empty, the vastness, the sunless deep, and hyperlink blue fills your vision, hyperlink blue, the hyperlink blue of that entrancing, surging, living abyss, and there is nothing—no framework, no polyfill, no jquery.min.js or reset.css or favicon.ico—and you spin, slowly now, in open-eyed awe of all of the nothing around you, and you are small, and you are content,

and you are glad you went surfing.  Anyway,