lacking a particle dream, one might say, houses are false images reduced in scale on a grand scale, forced from threshold to absurdity contradiction of numbers, left with camouflaged interiors and cardboard psychology. but tiny things deserve more amusement; paint-by-number tunnels, and / or miniature jailers. I myself, for a few seconds, escape the cracks to a smaller than logic example; hotter than other parts, warm and condensed. there, the mass generates vital heat in the spirit of opposite paths. from that moment on multi-playing pretexts fall short, motion slows to meditation coalescence of unlimited values. we have a dream invitation to continue anything without a central sum, valorized in flower correspondence, grown in chalices of webbed threads and blind folders. deep inside a thousand fur lined tea cups, the stamens remain in place, while all the pistils grow in india under a gentle warm intimacy.