I’ve seen you in pixels. Compressed into two dimensions. Translated into pure energy. Appearing on my screen. I’ve looked through your photos again and again. Read and reread the text you typed. Watched and replayed your moving image in my head too many times to count. You are a virtual boy. Maybe you exist outside my imagination, outside of these symbolic gestures I think you’ve sent my way. Maybe not. I’m happy to have you in this representational form in any case, although I’m also curious to look behind the curtain. I’ve only barely gotten a hold of you in these two dimensions. I’m not sure I can handle three.