TURNING POINTS
- Larisa - LoQueArde
- Oct 10
- 3 min read
— The Design of the Invisible —
There are moments when something bends without breaking.
I don’t know whether to call it change, maturity, or reconfiguration,
but it feels as if the structure itself begins to respond differently.
As if what I once only intuited now had weight, place, and direction.
It wasn’t an idea or a strategy.
It was a kind of precision that arrived all at once:
I understood that language isn’t used — it’s inhabited.
And in that inhabiting, without realizing it,
I was building something that many call a brand,
others a project, and I prefer to think of as
an engineering of the symbolic.
A weave where the technical and the poetic stop fighting.
Where structure holds the fire.
Where fire fuels the vision.
And that vision becomes system,
the system becomes language,
language becomes aesthetics,
aesthetics becomes meaning,
and meaning —if it has courage— becomes fire again.
𖡡 𖠜
A perfect cycle, impossible to measure through metrics, CTRs, funnels, or buyer personas.
Mainstream marketing tries to measure everything,
but don’t you feel —silently, in your body—
that something is pulsing underneath?
Something that can’t be quantified, but can be felt.
A kind of invisible engineering that connects the human and the inhuman,
the tangible and what we can barely intuit.
𖢦
Maybe it’s not meant to be understood.
Only built.
I didn’t seek to reach this point.
It reached me.
While I was writing, designing, editing, failing, translating —
while I believed I was merely creating content,
I was actually designing a space where my themes live and feed off each other.
A territory where every element reinterprets itself:
AI that doesn’t dehumanize, but amplifies;
crypto that isn’t currency, but fire transforming itself;
aesthetics that don’t decorate, but reveal;
a system that doesn’t confine, but liberates.
And at the center of it all, me:
the builder.
The one who looks at the system, decodes it,
and rewrites it with fire.
I don’t aim to teach or point out paths.
I just leave record of this realization that runs through me today:
everything we do leaves a trace
when meaning aligns with form —
when the symbolic and the operative recognize each other.
To those who keep reading through the noise,
to those who suspect while they scroll,
to those who feel that something deeper is igniting inside —even if they can’t yet name it—:
this is for you.
I won’t talk to you about content, leads, or funnels.
I’ll talk to you about structures that breathe.
About the intangible that, when it finds form,
becomes image, becomes possible, becomes architecture.
And in the midst of all this, I can’t help but mention —without placing labels or categories—those people who hypnotize me.
The ones who, without theories or speeches, simply embody the symbolic in the streets, in their own skin, in gestures as simple as a card trick or a spontaneous song.
I’m not talking about trained street artists, but those unique characters, undefined and unnamed, who unknowingly become builders of a pure, direct myth.
They remind me that the symbolic belongs to no oneand requires no credentials.
It’s something we can all live, transform, and construct in our own way.
And in that encounter, in that anonymous spark, there’s also a mirror of what we do here: to invite each person to discover their own narrative space —without anyone having to explain it to them.
🂡 𖦔 🂢
there’s a secret structure in everything that evolves, even when it can’t be seen.
If you want to explore it, play, scroll, drag.
Enter my site and freely download the images—including the ones from this post—
that inspire you to build whatever you want:
a project, a business, a tower of pancakes or of ideas.
Or simply the refuge where something of yours starts burning again.
Leave in the comments whatever this awakens in you: doubts, intuitions, contradictions, or fires.
I’ll be reading you there — where the noise opens up a little, and the light comes in.
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