A bigger group shrinking to a smaller one, crystalizing swarming wild everywhere into specificity, into just this, here on this page.
Hello reader.
How can words hold everything and every potential in them and be specific? At once. Details drawing a profile makes the un-graspable graspable. Perhaps.
Are you there?
And then: what is the shape of what we do. Not what we say but what we hold between us. What is this ‘thing’ we produce. Fluxing fleeting. Somehow changing the space. Not the walls but the space that breaths within it. Is it you and me breathing?
Now, reader, you breath.
Sets me off. Opens my eyes, words unsettles me, strives towards that in me which cannot be languaged. Then words are produced in me, exhilerating that is. Then I yield back and you are there to recieve. And like this we produce something, we do ‘conversation’. Like this we talk to each other.
Here are the traces.
(what is dmp?