Vsepresevnost translates from Slovenian to English as Alluminocity.

It describes reality of multiple realities all illuminated at the same time.

Normally reality is a view of an observer who is capable of accounting for all parts of his view in a justified and balanced manner. However, justification and balance are relative categories depending on the observer. Hence multiple observers recount multiple interpretations of the same reality. Moreover, interpretations are indistinguishable from reality itself. The observers themselves are part of reality.

The movie Rashomon by Akira Kurosawa is a classic example of vsepresevnost. The same story of a crime is recounted in similar yet crucially differentiated ways by different witnesses. All stories, I think there are four of them, are veritable and coherent, they elicit truth as we normally expect it to be. Yet when they are compared to each other, the stories are contradicting.

Vsepresevnost requires from the observer to look for more than just one story. It requires him to create one master story from all the episodic roles told by the different observers. Even more so, vsepresevnost requires one to capture more than the story, it requires total immersion, a synesthetics of all senses, a magical re-interpretation of everything observed.

Vsepresevnost requires one to become the story himself.
Vsepresevnost is a complete surrender.
Vsepresevnost is the ultimate love of reality.

Vsepresevnost has certain qualities that are hard to grasp, yet beautiful to observe. When stories have vsepresevnost, they’re right on multiple levels.

Imagine Shakespeare, imagine Mozart, imagine Frank Lloyd Wright.

Here’s one wonderful example, from the book Snow by Orhan Pamuk, the Turkish Nobel laureate. The book Snow happens in a remote city of Kars in easternmost province of Turkey. The names are not coincidental here, one just has to let the elements be illuminated however they appear to shine.

Ak means white in Turkish.
Ka is one in hebrew numerology, the Kabbalah.
Kar means snow in Turkish.
Kars is the name of the city, wherein a certain deep and dark magic is happening, also the eastermost place of the once huge Ottoman empire. Kras is its Slovenian counterpart, a place of special deep yet white magic, at the westernmost part of the once huge Ottoman empire.
The story revolves around the mystery of the sixfold simetry of snowflakes, and the tragedy of young turkish girls committing suicides. Suicides are a tragedy in Slovenia too. The reasons are seemingly different, however in vsepresevnost they come closer, much much closer.

Such parallels go on and on, yet what you read here is my interpreation only. So don’t buy it, unless you start feeling it too. If you do, do tell, if you don’t, do tell.