THE PORTAL

Episode II — Escher Throat / The Door That Swallows

The Portal is not an opening. It is a re‑alignment. Hallways fold like paper lungs. Staircases argue with gravity. A cube turns and the room turns with it—until the room becomes the cube’s opinion.

The labyrinth here is built from decisions you didn’t make. Every “maybe” becomes a corridor. This is the eXistenZ sequel logic: the game is real because your body behaves as if it is.

Leviathan is felt as geometry—an intelligence that doesn’t speak, only positions you. You don’t solve the maze. The maze solves your personality and keeps what is useful.

Cube whisper: “If an exit feels comfortable, it is a trap with better lighting.”

VIDEODROME SIGNAL — PORTAL PLATES

INSERT TAPE. The room is a recorder. The hallway is a splice. The door is a wound you can walk through.

The signal doesn’t guide you. It positions you. Every step is a cut. Every cut becomes a corridor.

In the static you can read the architecture: flesh, wires, scripture—all the same material, just tuned differently.

THE PORTAL is the moment between frames: where the mind keeps watching and the body starts to answer.

Micro‑Poems (Portal)

A door is a sentence that ends in teeth. A hallway is a question that refuses to be answered. You walk forward— and arrive behind yourself.