Taps out as method, undone in seeing how it will come out garbled by turbulence. And yet extracting a form is as exacting as abstraction. Not looking back opposes itself as an orphic moment. The inevitability that sucks one in. A series of conic phones organically attached to sleeping heads. If I fought the law, what would the law win? In scuttle the same, renamed to produce the inkjet insignias. The knot reveals what it is not. Underneath the dud, the will loosens. Stop listening and make language work. Canthus. The blend of shuts allure.