A Response
LOVELOCK I am in a frequency room. Eyes bombed by the colour frequencies, short and long. The modulating waves spray my ears. All travelling invisibly. Held by the brush mark, the sine wave. Their bounce a play of vibrations. I listen for the pathways. I try to pave the skips and bits that datafy the particle paint culminations. Generate the envelope of tingling pigment. Fragments push which on grasp , slip limp fuzz , move over , overflow. I am sucking up the haptic. The gestating gesture, mark by stroke. A signal flow, I listen for the exchange . The telegraph receiver. Emotions, feelings held in the shifting resonances. Scratched by grasps, tests, tastes. Amplified. Cast into the open holding. The elemental states. Eruption. Patch. Filter. Decay. The attack. A ground for the circuit . The shift. The return. The simulacra and the real. The modulating synthesised synthesis of time, memories, images....
