Desert musics. Chords clanging clear cold consonants. Nature is a series of alliterative instances which humans confuse for transcendent poetry, revealing their inherent communication problem.

Dreaming about a house that's all threshold, a smooth gradient with the surrounding landscape, extended mud room leading towards the hearth at the center, a series of wash basins.

I refrain from writing or recording the communication breakdowns - there's enough suffering in the world already, I don't need to perpetuate its mindless condition by replicating the mindlessness of others. Attend to the beauty of more elegant form-languages, through hand and mind, and prune the excesses from the arboreal taxonomy.

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