ObservationWeb3 identity is fluid: you are whoever you pretend to be.
That can be liberating but also, paradoxically, isolating. In Fragonard's The Swing, a pink-frocked aristocrat smiles coyly as she offers her lover a glimpse of undergarment. By contrast, our fully exposed swinger smiles toothily, but only a phallic tree trunk seems to bear witness.
When we keep our faces shrouded, as our protagonist does, everything feels artificial. Her flesh literally melts from her foot.
Which world would you rather live in?0.1639%
