Out of this Word uses artificial intelligence to describe unknown feelings or assign new meanings to words. Sometimes the words are new, sometimes they're a reinterpretation.
Our lives are finite, so is the set of experiences we get to live. Sunsets are a common thing, total eclipses are rarer. I'll never get to look a Tasmanian tiger in the eyes, but I can feel gravity every day. Depending on where and when we live, we get access to a limited range of possibilities. The sum of these experiences makes up our conscious life, everything we'll ever feel, every thought or memory.
Our conscious lives are all-encompassing. Like black holes, nothing can ever escape from them, and we fall into the trap of believing that our experience of the world is all there is out there. Because we don't know anything except our consciousness we get to think of the world as what it's happening to us. The catch isn't in the ability to assess our knowledge, but in the inability to estimate the lack of it. Yet there's so much more than what our senses capture. Impossible colors on exotic planets, the edge of physics laws, and compositions that are still just ideas in some musician's mind. But we still live. We are still living and measuring the fullness of our lives by how much of this planet we can experience, by how much of this century we can loot. While we're deeply absorbed in devouring the spectacle around we start to lose grip on the past too. Our own previous experiences go pale after a while and our ancient feeling are lost. We'll never know again how it is to just be born and look at our mother for the first time. The feeling of childhood friendship becomes more distorted at every recollection. How many feelings disappear? How many you don't experience even once? Reality is a spectrum and we usually see just a slice of it.
As we created a tool that can help us catch feelings that fell into the cracks of everyday life, we ask ourselves: can AI make us feel more human? Can it teach us other ways to be alive?
Our lives are finite, so is the set of experiences we get to live. Sunsets are a common thing, total eclipses are rarer. I'll never get to look a Tasmanian tiger in the eyes, but I can feel gravity every day. Depending on where and when we live, we get access to a limited range of possibilities. The sum of these experiences makes up our conscious life, everything we'll ever feel, every thought or memory.
Our conscious lives are all-encompassing. Like black holes, nothing can ever escape from them, and we fall into the trap of believing that our experience of the world is all there is out there. Because we don't know anything except our consciousness we get to think of the world as what it's happening to us. The catch isn't in the ability to assess our knowledge, but in the inability to estimate the lack of it. Yet there's so much more than what our senses capture. Impossible colors on exotic planets, the edge of physics laws, and compositions that are still just ideas in some musician's mind. But we still live. We are still living and measuring the fullness of our lives by how much of this planet we can experience, by how much of this century we can loot. While we're deeply absorbed in devouring the spectacle around we start to lose grip on the past too. Our own previous experiences go pale after a while and our ancient feeling are lost. We'll never know again how it is to just be born and look at our mother for the first time. The feeling of childhood friendship becomes more distorted at every recollection. How many feelings disappear? How many you don't experience even once? Reality is a spectrum and we usually see just a slice of it.
As we created a tool that can help us catch feelings that fell into the cracks of everyday life, we ask ourselves: can AI make us feel more human? Can it teach us other ways to be alive?
