addrproxy
a proxy is a held shape, not a held place
i. the salt index
every address is a tidepool — a held volume of saline circumstance, briefly indexed by the moon. when the tide withdraws, the index remains: a faint mineral rim drawn around the absence of water. we substitute shape for substance, a chrome ladle in lamplight, and call the trace an address.
ii. decantation
between one held shape and the next, a brief unholding — the blob squeezes itself through the seam of the page like ink decanted between two flasks. nothing is lost in the transfer; only the silhouette is rearranged. the dreams of deep water and wet stone.
iii. substitution without mass
a proxy holds the shape of presence without the weight of arrival. it is the bend of light through the place a body once was, the slow re-pooling of mercury after the spoon is withdrawn.
— ink dropped into milk does not become milk; it becomes a longer way of being ink. —
so the address holds the visitor: not as a destination, but as a temporary silhouette of intent — re-routed, re-rendered, set down softly on the other side of the seam.
iv. quiet routing
at the deepest fathom, motion almost ceases. the proxy is now a polished river-stone — routing without sound, holding without grip.
v. resurfacing
the centroid drifts upward. light returns to the upper bands of the gradient first; the deep navy settles, exhausted, into the lower edge. a proxy is a held shape, not a held place — and now it begins to lift, carrying its weight as memory rather than mass.