Walking the halls on the first day of DEVconnect, I found myself in a labyrinth. To be clear, navigating every space in La Rural is complex; everything was packed with different proposals waiting to be explored.

That afternoon, nearly evening, I started observing that maze of curious works I couldn't quite grasp. One of them, with a constant sound, was tucked away in a corner. It was a garden with lights and stones. The sound came from speakers subtly disguised with fine, green synthetic fibers. I was just watching it. It also had some kind of stones, but they were different—plastic and a different color. I was simply observing until M subtly approached me and started touching those white stones.

M showed me that each one made a different melody that coupled with the background sound. M showed me the delicacy of resting my fingertips on the small piece of art, explaining that they were light sensors that, when touched, formed an ecosystem of sound, light, and code that responded. Our languages were different, but the art united us. After that, M told me que M had created it. I, with my poor blabla, tried to express the emotion I felt for "An Ecology of Grace" (that was the work's name). We said goodbye with an almost familial hug. I walked away with a piece of the art and a piece of the artist in my heart. I knew that sporadic encounter probably wouldn't happen again.

What I didn't yet know was the immense personal impact that work would have on me.

The DEV week was long and intense. A thousand emotions swept through my body: positive, negative, from joy to sadness. Exhaustion, confusion. Chaos for a person like me. My anxiety sometimes wants to fight me, so we fight. That intense, uncontrollable tide of emotions poured out as a sea of tears. The emotions on my skin felt like a strong South wind.

One day, something shifted inside me. So many souls, so many stories, so many emotions... I had never been in a place like that. I froze and just walked without knowing where to go, until I remembered—or my senses heard—that soft, precise, relaxing PUM PUMP PUMP.

Something that many just glanced at became my grounding anchor, my calm. Touching the art, feeling it, hearing it, understanding it as a being to converse with that learns and nurtures itself from the environment, created a unique movement within me.

I remembered the text explained the work was rooted in the ethics of technology, asking if machines can learn to love and if humans can live in grace. For me, the work was precisely that: grace. It became my refuge time and again, and I kept going back hoping to find M to thank M for what M had done and the weight the piece held for me.

I remembered the name of the artist began with an M, but M had no social media. Though I randomly kept seeing M (by the third day at the DEV, we were all familiar faces), I couldn't find the right moment to express my emotion. All I knew was that M was leaving Argentina soon, and I would forever regret not being able to let M know.

One random night—I think the last one, the farewell at the Kismet + Base ARG community asado—M appeared. With M's beautiful clothes, M's rings, M's tattoos, M's personality so... I can’t define it. Though M might not know it, I rushed over and, with my poor English, I confronted M and didn't stop until I cried, and we cried. And I felt. And perhaps we felt. And I encountered the work of art in essence, made into a hug.

This experience was beautiful because I was able to be so close to the person who created it and witness M's sensitivity. I admire the details: the work calmed my anxiety and allowed my senses to return to my center again. But what I admired most was the person behind it.

Thank you, M, for such lovely hugs and for building a tangible asset of peace in the middle of the chaos.

Since I'm not an engineer, and my hustle is elsewhere, my technical understanding is based on the little I gathered from the artist and the text description. But for those who understand code, this is what made this work resonate in the DEV context:

• Open Systems: The work is not a closed black box. It’s based on the principles of open systems and decentralized intelligence. Its "mind" is not on a central server but distributed between the interaction and the environment's input.

• Second-Order Cybernetics: This is what blew my mind. It's not just a simple trigger (Touch → Sound). By learning from each loop of sound and light, the work reconfigures itself. It is a system that learns from its own experience and from ours.

The components are the perfect union of the old and the new:

• Light/Touch Sensors: These are the primary inputs, the white stones I touched. They function as the bridge between my fingertip (the physical) and the digital data that triggers the melody.

• Organic Substrate: The moss and stone are not just decoration; they are the organic foundation that anchors the technology. The work literally grows from the moss, which reinforces the idea that the synthetic must be intimately intertwined with nature.

• Co-Created Code: The code doesn't just play a recorded melody; it generates it in real-time based on the interaction. Each one of us co-created the final sound.

To me, this work is a reminder that if we use technology and decentralization for something as sensitive as calm, we can aspire to build systems that are not only efficient but also allow us (as the text states) to exist in a state of grace. A beautiful concept.

Walking the halls on the first day of DEVconnect, I found myself in a labyrinth. To be clear, navigating every space in La Rural is complex; everything was packed with different proposals waiting to be explored.

That afternoon, nearly evening, I started observing that maze of curious works I couldn't quite grasp. One of them, with a constant sound, was tucked away in a corner. It was a garden with lights and stones. The sound came from speakers subtly disguised with fine, green synthetic fibers. I was just watching it. It also had some kind of stones, but they were different—plastic and a different color. I was simply observing until M subtly approached me and started touching those white stones.

M showed me that each one made a different melody that coupled with the background sound. M showed me the delicacy of resting my fingertips on the small piece of art, explaining that they were light sensors that, when touched, formed an ecosystem of sound, light, and code that responded. Our languages were different, but the art united us. After that, M told me que M had created it. I, with my poor blabla, tried to express the emotion I felt for "An Ecology of Grace" (that was the work's name). We said goodbye with an almost familial hug. I walked away with a piece of the art and a piece of the artist in my heart. I knew that sporadic encounter probably wouldn't happen again.

What I didn't yet know was the immense personal impact that work would have on me.

The DEV week was long and intense. A thousand emotions swept through my body: positive, negative, from joy to sadness. Exhaustion, confusion. Chaos for a person like me. My anxiety sometimes wants to fight me, so we fight. That intense, uncontrollable tide of emotions poured out as a sea of tears. The emotions on my skin felt like a strong South wind.

One day, something shifted inside me. So many souls, so many stories, so many emotions... I had never been in a place like that. I froze and just walked without knowing where to go, until I remembered—or my senses heard—that soft, precise, relaxing PUM PUMP PUMP.

Something that many just glanced at became my grounding anchor, my calm. Touching the art, feeling it, hearing it, understanding it as a being to converse with that learns and nurtures itself from the environment, created a unique movement within me.

I remembered the text explained the work was rooted in the ethics of technology, asking if machines can learn to love and if humans can live in grace. For me, the work was precisely that: grace. It became my refuge time and again, and I kept going back hoping to find M to thank M for what M had done and the weight the piece held for me.

I remembered the name of the artist began with an M, but M had no social media. Though I randomly kept seeing M (by the third day at the DEV, we were all familiar faces), I couldn't find the right moment to express my emotion. All I knew was that M was leaving Argentina soon, and I would forever regret not being able to let M know.

One random night—I think the last one, the farewell at the Kismet + Base ARG community asado—M appeared. With M's beautiful clothes, M's rings, M's tattoos, M's personality so... I can’t define it. Though M might not know it, I rushed over and, with my poor English, I confronted M and didn't stop until I cried, and we cried. And I felt. And perhaps we felt. And I encountered the work of art in essence, made into a hug.

This experience was beautiful because I was able to be so close to the person who created it and witness M's sensitivity. I admire the details: the work calmed my anxiety and allowed my senses to return to my center again. But what I admired most was the person behind it.

Thank you, M, for such lovely hugs and for building a tangible asset of peace in the middle of the chaos.

Since I'm not an engineer, and my hustle is elsewhere, my technical understanding is based on the little I gathered from the artist and the text description. But for those who understand code, this is what made this work resonate in the DEV context:

• Open Systems: The work is not a closed black box. It’s based on the principles of open systems and decentralized intelligence. Its "mind" is not on a central server but distributed between the interaction and the environment's input.

• Second-Order Cybernetics: This is what blew my mind. It's not just a simple trigger (Touch → Sound). By learning from each loop of sound and light, the work reconfigures itself. It is a system that learns from its own experience and from ours.

The components are the perfect union of the old and the new:

• Light/Touch Sensors: These are the primary inputs, the white stones I touched. They function as the bridge between my fingertip (the physical) and the digital data that triggers the melody.

• Organic Substrate: The moss and stone are not just decoration; they are the organic foundation that anchors the technology. The work literally grows from the moss, which reinforces the idea that the synthetic must be intimately intertwined with nature.

• Co-Created Code: The code doesn't just play a recorded melody; it generates it in real-time based on the interaction. Each one of us co-created the final sound.

To me, this work is a reminder that if we use technology and decentralization for something as sensitive as calm, we can aspire to build systems that are not only efficient but also allow us (as the text states) to exist in a state of grace. A beautiful concept.