me[RROR], 2025

With the death of the author, each viewer becomes an author themselves.
This is precisely what the speculariae, the oracle-priestess:es of old, once practiced. They shared their interpretive power with no one; they alone were permitted to decipher what they saw. No one asked others what they thought they were seeing.

In white noise, in rippling water, in the rustling of a sacred grove, anything might appear. Everything could be found there, if the human heart is impressionable enough, the imagination open enough. This is the same chaos whose ancient synonym is cosmos, not disorder in the modern sense, but fruitful totality.
...everything and anything...

“Everything and anything” is perhaps the most fitting phrase to describe the future today.
[In the Russian version of this phrase, there's a personal undertone: anything [requested by] — by whom? Lord, master, author? But that which no longer exists. No client is commissioning the future. That figure, too, has died. We’ll have to grow up — and become the authors ourselves.]