We move through space from a single position. Every perception seems attached to a fixed center around which the world silently organizes itself. Yet certain configurations disturb this elementary stability. Distances deform and surfaces cease to occupy coherent orientations. The body itself appears observable from angles that no ordinary geometry should permit.

​

Something within these experiences recalls the projections of multidimensional objects: structures impossible to perceive in their entirety, of which only certain sections become momentarily visible within our limited space.

​

Volumes open differently there. A room seems to contain more space than it should. Perspectives fold back onto themselves. Continuities emerge between previously separated zones. The gaze no longer follows a stable trajectory, but moves through simultaneous layers of depth.

​

The most troubling sensation often remains that of a gradual decentering. As though consciousness ceased to inhabit the body strictly and instead became a more diffuse circulation within the perceptual field itself.

​

Interior and exterior lose part of their usual separation. Certain surfaces give the impression of being observed from their own coordinates.

​

As space becomes less compatible with human intuition, another ambiguity emerges: perhaps ordinary perception does not constitute an opening onto reality, but merely a local condition of stability within a geometry infinitely larger than ourselves.

​

What we call reality might be nothing more than the fragile portion of the world that our mental structure manages to keep coherent.