Taste the Fungi of Fiction

Fun, surreal, even trippy — this baby mushroom is bigger than it looks. Its mycelium holds a cosmos of its own. And as you look at it, it looks back — already weaving a network of fungal threads that speak to your fears. They poison you just enough to make you live in the dream they’ve chosen for you. A cap that queries the forest — indexing spores and coincidences until search becomes superstition — sprouts in “The Mushroom Search Engine” by Fabian Mosele. Satellite dishes bud like toadstools in “FUNGI” by Marco Barotti, broadcasting damp hymns from a wet planet. The genome stretches like mycelium under bark in “Armillaria Solidipes fungus DNA” by Alessandro Zannier, mapping the hunger of an underground empire. Petrochemical trees fruit synthetic spores in “PLASTIC FOREST II (collab: COCO KATSURA)” by Boris Eldagsen, a lucid dream that refuses to biodegrade. The forest appears from the underside of space in “Dark Matter” by Jae Hoon Lee, where spores drift like galaxies and gravity tastes like loam. A biomech ritual — sinew, sensor, and signal spore — grows a body that remembers before it speaks in “Corpys Nil” by Marco Donnarumma. A long tone seeded in hush threads the ear until quiet hums back in “Silence, a Drone (沉默的长音)” by Rhett Tsai. Pixels incubate like spores in “MEET ME IN DIFFUSION” by Lihao Shau, images budding, blurring, breeding a soft hallucination. Caps bow and stems bend in “SUBMISSION” by Danilo Torre; governance wears a gill, and consent is cultivated in shade. And rain-counting, stone-listening, spore-watching studies gather in “The Preludes” by Cheng Xinhao — preludes to a longer symphony of rot and renewal. Some dreams fruit overnight; others take decades of damp. Taste the fiction; let the unseen consume you, and feed it back with your own stories.