* Likewise, incoming requests are never watched or tracked, to say nothing of counted or analyzed. This isn’t that kind of transaction either. Pellucid Literature does not take your name, watch your IP address or your browser, or litter your system with cookies.
* Among other things this means that while readers’ feedback is very much welcome, it must be provided in some old-fashioned way. There are no ratings forms or comments boxes.
* Instead, Pellucid Literature may be considered entirely self-sufficient and complete in itself, or at least treated as such. The same is also true of precincts within it, islands in an archipelago. Unlike most tangles of today’s web, works on Pellucid Literature may hope to be portable: something like a book, which you can put in your pocket, not quite as prone to break or become unreadable as most web sites tend to, over time (to take only the most salient example of a media technology where the goods seem prone to spoiling on the shelf).
The priority must always be the transparency of the reading experience, whether it be from a page, screen or tablet surface.
So there should never be holes in the page where stuff (what the media priesthood calls content) is dropped. In five years, or off line, a page on Pellucid Literature may look no better than it does today – but if we are fortunate, it will still be perfectly legible, and will look no worse.
Food for thought for the patient.
Berneval has not avoided the temptation to link to media that might disappear (or has disappeared) — hence our fascination with ephemera — we may not be ever wholly holeless but hope there is enough context around those potential holes to not be wholly unreadable.
And so for day 2505