I find placement transcendental, fixed and touched and in directions and by-side-by-side.

Woven into timings, something flat, lines and details polled together by the mechanics of written thread.

Graphs and the push clicks of type, sounds of aria, and the foreground patterning of iteration, and thus the day is incremented.

Speaking and recorded human intercourse then I reminisce, but only of a moment earlier, and in childish abstractions that are emphasized by hand waving.