Some thing to do with staring through the backs of your very own little eyelids at a thing…possibly a small sparrow in quick flight diving and dipping…
Some thing possibly more akin to a seashell or better yet a crystalline structure-
For the notion of its microcosmic value.
The smallness of the object is simple enough but on closer examination its visible markings, in the form of constantly re-appearing micro blemishes-
Seem to infinitely reappear within them selves…a spiraling of any attempt to finally re-adjust toward one final,
Cavernous productions of a Diaspora.
- craters within CRATERS.
When infinity is finally approached…
The Mad scientists’ lenses somehow fall short, having built up in an ever-increasing memory pool of ocular debris
In The Pile Just to the right.
The seductivity of this closeness, and the distant memory of differences within this Unfolding Complex,
blemishes within blemishes,
belays a manic and distortive series of overlaid mappings
To Be Hatched.
A deleuzian game of charades, whereby after-images on the scientists past lenses were
After Images of the future,
Were compared to
Successive Observations of the Present:
To the characters in the lab taking turns looking into the scope, it seemed….in
A process synonymously imaginary and physical in its own entrenchment. A simultaneously enrapturing unraveling of potentials…
and inevitable failures.
A process both connective in its admittance, yet persistently elusive in its physical
The backs of those lids… a hand gesture seems to reverse the octopus’ propulsion. A head injury, No-Hands
elegantly gripping a blue
Possibly enacted to blue-toothedly,
Handlessly, becoming digitally
In the detail of an image on screen. Itself an impossible form due to,-
“Economies of Scale”.
 Toy surprise at bottom.