Bytes
There’s something strange about creating things today.
You open the editor, jot down a half-formed idea… and before the ink dries, an artificial intelligence has already written the code, designed the website, organized the files, and even suggested a name for the project. It’s like having an invisible, tireless, omniscient intern. And that’s gratifying, but at the same time, it feels like one has become unnecessary.
Then arises the question, not technical, but existential: Why create if the machine can do it all?
CheeseBytes was born as a gesture of love for knowledge.
A way to organize what has been learned, to share, to make a journey visible. It’s not a product. It doesn’t seek clicks. It’s simply a collection of notes set in a cheese cave. And each note is a crumb of what I’ve been, what I’ve read, what has fascinated me.
But now, in this new time, I find myself wondering: who will read this? Will there be human eyes on the other side of the screen? Or will it be another artificial intelligence, searching for answers for someone else? And if the AI learns from me to answer another… does that count as having taught something?
Creation, in this era, has changed form. We are no longer just builders. We are seekers of meaning. The machine can execute, propose, even “dream” code. But it cannot decide why. It cannot know what matters to us. What moves us. What gives us meaning.
Creating today is a form of soft resistance. It’s saying: “this matters to me”, even if no one reads it. It’s leaving traces, even if the digital wind soon covers them. It’s writing not just for others, but for the future self, and for that invisible spark we all share: the act of doing something for the simple sake of doing it.
In CheeseBytes, I use artificial intelligence. Yes. Like using a good pen or a precise magnifying glass. But the decisions, the paths, the questions… are still mine. And in that lies the value.
Because perhaps it’s not about competing with AI, but about remembering what makes us human. The wonder. The doubt. The play. The need to name things, even if they are already named.
And that’s why I’m still here. Writing, even if no one reads me. Organizing ideas, even if the algorithm does it faster. Capturing thoughts, even if those thoughts have already passed through the minds of thousands before. I keep working on Cheese Bytes, even if my cave is invisible to human eyes.