"I think there’s a presence held in our words and actions that lingers after the sound and motion has passed. I cannot explain it directly, except to say that we move through the world like a brush stroke, our colour left to blend with all that came before. That as we project our thoughts and feelings out to the world, the world holds and reflects them back, like heat from the night earth after a day of full summer sun.

And I think when we share our feelings with the world digitally, that presence is passed along with them down the wire, left to hover within and around the data center with all the rest of our things."

"Digital spaces are inherently noa. In the Tongan language, noa is an adjective meaning common, ordinary, of no particular kind. This is similar to the definition of noa in te reo Māori. Digital spaces don’t discriminate, unless we program them to.

The digital space has its own nature, its own sense. It allows greater interaction with information. But because it is such a powerful access tool, it presents a danger for tapu knowledge."

"Imagine a video conference call with 40 faces in small squares across the screen, each with a cup and a piece of bread in view. We worship and pray and the pastor or priest consecrates with language from the Book of Common Prayer, 'send your Spirit upon these gifts'—the non-physical, all-present Spirit of God. Then as one body we partake together. In unity. Not privately. Present to one another."

"Three websites that all take up the same amount of pixels on your screen can each induce a completely different sense of space: One might feel like a skyscraper — overarching, uniform, impersonal —, one might feel like an eclectic living room — personal, warm, a bit cramped — and one might feel like a public park — copious, entwined, overgrown or trimmed, clean or full of litter."