Getting lost, or not knowing where you are is a situation that at first instance produces anxiety. It is an indefinite state that assumes that the motivation of navigation and movement is rational or functional. This assumption arises from the narrow explorative space in our local area that most of map and from also the way in which drifting has become a cultural template of sorts of swimming against the current.

If they are moving fast, we can go slow. If they know where they are, we can forget - and get lost in the process. This reversal has become too easy to state and so has become impossible to achieve. Because language is a map. It lends concepts a valid location in our imagination and makes them accessible. So accessible in fact that they are not surprising anymore.

The idea of getting lost in an urban landscape is one such idea. It is always possible but also technically impossible. The urban landscape is too marked, populated and mapped to be truly lost in anymore. Of course you can be lost in relation to reaching some final destination but getting lost in an absolute way is difficult. It is a lost cause. At best the idea can be revisited, appropriated again and again with hopes of it rubbing off some sediment of the intended experience on you.

So we talk about getting lost as if it were a story. Only in confounding you, can we help you blur out the edges of the world that you perceive and ambiguate your emotions. When we talk in this way, we are only talking. Only talking in a specific language, a language that does not translate very well. We treat the surface of translation (incomplete, faulty, porous) itself as a way to mislead you and lead you into the labyrinth of our mind.

Because in our mind, we have consistently refused to seek clarity. Because landscapes cannot render the view-ports that make them visible. Landscapes can exist in their expansiveness and this expanse then has to be glimpsed. The contours of the landscape of our minds are rough, chaotic and hopeless. We cannot package them in a sheath of clarity just in time or you to catch a glimpse. We can only point to pathways that can bring you in and be confounded. Clarity is a reductive force. We never try to simplify our stories.

Pattern-recognition is a matter of habit. Complexity gets simplified if matched with a very elaborate filter. The experience of getting lost (even if largely imagined) applies well to the politics of self-representation. We feel free, and we invite you to feel free and make up all kinds of stories about who we seem to be.

We will walk, but we will seem to be only have a weak motivation.

We will through our loose hold on our narrative, force your buffer to feel overwhelmed.

We will trust only the friction that occurs between our words and your ears. A soup of sounds will delude you. That is the only promise.

The first thing that will occur to you when you think about freedom is that freedom of any kind is not really possible. It is only a fantasy. In the densely intermeshed system we live in, we know that we are in a system that has access to the windows on each side of the building. Some say, that the control is not tight and we have to live with a less pronounced faith in the absolute nature of the control mechanisms. You can read conspiracies and you can laugh at the foolishness of the those trying to control the flow of sand out of the leaky container.

But we offer you another choice. You can also choose to be deluded with a fantasy and it will still be fine. The insistence on investigating and pursuing the actual fact is disturbing. There are many ways of accessing what is going on and for some reason, delusion is one of those ways. Go deep into a fantasy of your choice, with an utter discard for verifying or distilling fact from fiction. This will not be very easy. But then how does that matter?

Delusions at their very core are generated from a base layer of fact. But fact is very difficult to deal with in a naked fashion, the colour and flavour of context and the filters of the landscape always distort it. This distortion prevents the fact to ever be able to reveal itself. Facts periodically reveal themselves in the form of the friction of the moment and urgent delusions. Delusions are only poetically encoded fact. This encoding is in a format that does not allow the sharpness of fact to seep through. Delusions are encoded with a sharpness of their own, but this sharpness is not frightening because its resolution is playfully mounted into our viewport by the mechanism of our desire.

Like the rabbit hole that is deep and shallow at the same time, delusions have a variable capacity to deal with our wish to travel and accommodate us fully.

But eventually if our delusion and our desire to know collude, we are led through a sequence of events to a post-fact world where the fact is already history.

Now, history is merely another kind of delusion, which has germinated from some version of the fact. By arriving into the post-fact world, we successfully avoid a confrontation with the agony of dealing with an inaccessible fact. History can be dealt with sincerely and taken at face value but it is dangerous and self-damaging to do so.

So we do need to retail this freedom, this freedom to be deluded. And if we do so, a world rich in narrative possibilities is awaiting for us to get lost in. In this world, we neither have to bear the burden of faith in a fragile and shaky system nor do we have to pride ourself in our intelligence for supposedly being able to see through the pretensions of the construction.