You realize the menu is not offering you choices to consume. It is listing the parts of you that have already been ordered.
You try to move the cursor to the "X" in the top right corner. There is no window frame. There is no exit. You try to reach for the power button on your PC tower, but your arm feels heavy, lagging seconds behind your brain's commands.
The font is a perfect, clinical sans-serif. It is too readable. It does not scroll; it flows. As your eyes move down the page, the options begin to shift. They do not describe food. They describe states of being.
1nf1n17y_menu.exe -
You realize the menu is not offering you choices to consume. It is listing the parts of you that have already been ordered.
You try to move the cursor to the "X" in the top right corner. There is no window frame. There is no exit. You try to reach for the power button on your PC tower, but your arm feels heavy, lagging seconds behind your brain's commands. 1NF1N17Y_Menu.exe
The font is a perfect, clinical sans-serif. It is too readable. It does not scroll; it flows. As your eyes move down the page, the options begin to shift. They do not describe food. They describe states of being. You realize the menu is not offering you choices to consume