Natural patterns left me reaching for something bright. A dawn? A new beginning? Illuminated fingertips, mazes of brains… and finally, my center is cleared. Textures in seamless loops and wavering drones, broken beats and tone throbs, everything including the kitchen sink, and my own streams of consciousness. Amplified. Lo-fi garble and twitching circuits, damaged tape, and grand melody sneaking in and out. My deepest crevices are smoldering, as a mirror should, nailed to a burning tree… shattered before it ever served it's true purpose. Real-time composition and recording, born before i was. Spacial and alienating. I've treated it as such. There is a child inside of me, a portrayal of all that is experienced and learned, in 4 aspects: perception (a - your eyes>filter>image), sensibility (b - medium grounds for senses), and coming later: time and existence (c - year of the water dragon), new beginnings (d - dawn of the coming vision). If it can be trusted that this is glowing introspective, human measurements of time (62 minutes to be exact) dissipate into cosmic dust.