:: motricity ::
a faint signal travels at astounding velocity from the brain to the hand and back, it traces the contours of each muscle and each sensitive strand, it raises the small fibers spread across the dermis, it dilates the pupils and orders the secretion of salted water through the eyes. a path that cannot be said to be settled or still is taken by the one thing that can be responsible for the immaterial result, for the grandness of the ambiguity of the line. and it is in the precise moment when position has no value that one expands and remains still in the contemplation of the infinite scenarios of that which is erroneously called creation: one cannot escape one's self when being simply the controlled tremor of the hands. there is no such thing as chance involved.
coming in through my ears::Communication Breakdown/Led Zeppelin