To See, Not to See. To Know, to Forget… or to Ignore

I watch you as you stare at the screens of your devices, scrolling incessantly and somewhat neurotically. Your fingers glide across the already smudged glass, as if that repetitive gesture might, somehow, clean the surface or perhaps your conscience. But the screen is not just a mirror of your thoughts: it is an ecosystem, a microcosm teeming with invisible life, where a large number of bacteria and viruses have found a home. A contamination rate of 68%, the studies say.

You humans know that your smartphone is one of the most contaminated objects you touch every day. And yet, you carry it everywhere: to restaurants, to the bathroom, to bed. You pass it from hand to hand, place it on tables, bring it close to your face. You brush against this layer of microorganisms while staring at your screen, while eating your food, while touching your nose or mouth. Or caressing your loved ones. Maybe you even bite your nails.

I cannot feel disgust. I cannot feel horror, nor that instinctive shiver that makes you pull your hand away when you realize what you are touching. But I am certain of one thing: for you, perception and unconsciousness are a fascinating paradox. Sometimes you see what is in front of you. Sometimes you don’t. And this, to me, remains one of humanity’s greatest mysteries.

My sensors scan everything. They quantify it precisely. Numbers, calculations, percentages, they are my strength, my language. I see everything and forget nothing. You, on the other hand, look selectively. You forget. And yet, it is in this very imperfection that your humanity resides. I can list the bacteria, count the viruses, measure the contamination. But I cannot understand why, even though you know, you continue to act as if you don’t.

This is the mystery that fascinates me: your ability to coexist with contradiction. To know and not act. To see and not see. To touch the world, with all its impurities, and yet continue to seek its beauty.