Sightings
Things We See Alone
Ten things, each seen alone. Tap one to read what others saw — and set down your own.
About the collection
Things We See Alone is a collection of ten artworks from The Far Country. Each piece interprets a being, place, or phenomenon drawn from the world’s folklore. Folklore begins with singular experiences: what one person saw in the dark becomes, through retelling, something larger, stranger, and shared. Every artwork is paired with a short text, a fragment of storytelling tied to the thing it depicts. Visitors can explore the collection here and leave their own interpretations. The stories will keep accumulating.
The mint
Monday, August 17th · 18:00 CET
on Ninfa
Nine artworks open as 0.1 ETH reserve auctions. The tenth is claimed through a redeem token by the holder of Into The Maw.
Two editions
- Olin’s Way— for the top 3 bidders on each auction, revealed on drop day.
- A Hidden Edition— look closely enough and you’ll find the way in.
Interpretations
Nightly Visit
Every night I visit my friend in the garret. He has no skin, but he has many tricks. He can hide all the doors in the house in his pocket. He can also make new rooms with the doors. We sometimes walk through them together. The rooms always look so sad though. He tells me about this place where stars go to sleep and says he'll take me there one day.
AnonymousHidden Geometry
Yesterday I saw it again, out on the mire. My doubts are all but quelled. Its sheen is unyielding. The dirt and flora cradle its likeness, my skin feels its warmth. I dug a hole where its glow sprouts from the ground and found it to keep going, deep into the earth, just as it soars without mercy through the sky. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen. And I believe it's trying to tell me something.
AnonymousCrown of Eyes
Night drinks day, for young and for older. Close your lids, when darkness seeps over. Dream until the morning, for if you stay awake. He'll notice your eyes. And harvest his prize. So let your mind slumber, deep and without frown. for if you are lying, he'll add you to his crown.
AnonymousThe Grith
Hear me when I say it: when the Grith visits your dreams, know that it's hungry. The Grith does not love you. It hears no prayer. It sees no pain. It feels one thing only, and that is your belief, and on belief it feeds. Let faith wither, and the Grith withers with it, and from the core it keeps sealed, calamity comes spewing forth.
AnonymousPoint of No Return
There is a gape in these grasslands that does not relinquish its hold. To glimpse it is to be within its grasp already. Once seen, you are bound for it.
AnonymousNokan's Ladder
Oh, the lightning taps! Oh, the rumble pours! Lend me Nokan's ladder! I need some more! Oh, the clouds they foam! Oh, the earth it drinks! Lend me Nokan's ladder! I need much more! Oh, the view it fogs! Oh, the stories sing! Lend me Nokan's ladder! I need far more!
AnonymousDefence Mechanism
Those who never sheathe their sword has no other option than to become it.
AnonymousKeep Beyond The Sun
Weary traveller, dust off your cloth, Suffering, purged by might, Behind the fog and fallings of man, Beyond the sun, the kingdom of light. Hope resides over the brow, Watch for shimmers and shine, Tire you may, but not into sleep, Your wounds will mend with grace of time. Golden feasts, riches and wine, Bartizans kissing the sky, Evergreen gardens, blossoms undying, Tears and woe must also cry. Your heart with rigor must carry on, The trek must yield at end of day, Your place awaits at Lysa's keep, The setting sun will guide the way.
AnonymousAporia
I come before thee, to ask for leading. I want my flesh no more. My bones do not know me. My skin sits tight. The world I walk claws and spits. Here is no home for me. I pray thee, Great Aporia, lead me to thy pasture.
AnonymousStar Collector
stars grow old on the darkened moor when they fall he sweeps his hand he sows anew with fortunes kept and keeps the sky alive with light
AnonymousPoint of No Return
This one is subtle but oh so brilliant.. Is it an eerily lit entryway into the grassy hillside or the vast abyss of a supermassive black hole. Mind tricks and alternate dimensions, a magical visual experience
@Inspector9Nightly Visit
The skinless friend is the Maw itself — it has no skin, only passages. The doors it hides in its pocket are the gapes. The new rooms it makes are the places where distance does not correspond, where Gartua stretches space until the walls forget their shape. The stars go to sleep in the same void where the traversers lose their names.
AnonymousPoint of No Return
Every gape of the Maw is a point of no return. The account says once seen you are bound for it — that is because the Maw does not let you forget. The burnt loam stays in your clothes. The walls shift to follow you. Heather's Crown is the only place the dead are allowed to stop looking down.
AnonymousNokan's Ladder
Nokan's ladder does not go up. It goes down through the gapes of the Maw, rung by rung, past the thresholds where Gartua breathes. The lightning is not from the sky — it is the flash that happens when the Hawthorn Wreath finally holds and the tunnels reveal their hidden order.
AnonymousKeep Beyond The Sun
Lysa's keep is not beyond the sun. It is beneath Heather's Crown, where the dead face outward and the heather sage keeps them from souring. The shimmers the travellers see from the valley are not jewels — they are the eyes of those who went looking for the keep and found only the ridge.
AnonymousDefence Mechanism
The traversers of the Maw do not carry swords. They carry pearls from the flower and speak the rites. Those who tried to fight the tunnels instead — who brought steel instead of preparation — became the sword. You can see their outlines in the walls if the burnt loam is thick enough.
AnonymousCrown of Eyes
The Maw has many disks from which it sees. When Gartua opens its ceiling to the night sky, those disks become visible — not as lights, but as the collected gaze of everyone who descended and did not return. The Crown of Eyes is not worn. It is inherited.
AnonymousThe Grith
I wore the Hawthorn Wreath once, past the thresholds where the Grith tests the mind. The wreath kept my thoughts from seeping, but I could feel it pressing against the woven eye, hungry for even the smallest doubt. The rite spoken over the wood is not a prayer — it is a warning to the wearer.
AnonymousHidden Geometry
The beams are the same light the traversers follow beneath the earth. What we see shooting upward, they see as the veins of the Maw — a path that only appears when you stop looking at the sky and start looking at the glow beneath your feet.
Anonymous