Title: first paragraph ... Our overlapping co-relational story is like an organic fractal diversifying and expanding with recognizable patterns, brilliantly filling and unfolding into a deep black and purple unrecognizable background. The space itself, is the realm of all possibility. And now, the foreground, just barely emerging is awaiting patiently to be rediscovered and redefined over and over. With every nuance of expression, a surprising pixel begins a curve, a wave, cascading over the top of our imaginary edge. Uncontrollably we travel further from the naive and wishful firm grasp of a defined shared domain we once hoped for and clung to. Even our delicate ripples become waves that send us with momentous swells towards the wonderful shores of islands we have not yet named. Our goals, our seeking, are netherworld rumblings underneath a mindful playground. Here, we gather to mingle our pain with joy to make up rituals to serve the apprehension of a solid boundary. We often tremble in exhaustion and slip into that light sleep to dream of Tribal grounds that once revolved around ancient merry go round like totems. With our Totem Guides intricately centering the manifest, we knew enough. So we thought ... Amazingly we sense an awakening from an even deeper slumber, it seems. Perhaps this vital energy we feel is initiating a novel movement. In this moment we might generate a new daily gesture for play time. We might appear a little different for a little while. Some will grow too confident though. Our understandings become a wonderful new reference, for yet another desperate glance of the whole. The glance itself is entangled inwardly, concave to its pregnant centre. The cord unfolds. Who truly knows truth...? A childish fantasy about its mother?... An infants story of a subtle playful light being... A twinkle from a powerfully explosive star? A slight smell, mere touch or taste of the most subtle intimate reflex still manages to gradually tip the entire sensual cart off balance, toward the pathways of entirely new landscapes and forms. Every sincere interpretation of inner and outer is inescapably a divulging creative force driving the shapes we concoct into wildly unpredictable patterns. The great story tellers concocted their own ... A certain precious glass was said to be made into a wonderful window, its beauty renown, an ineffable profound pleasure. The frame itself was almost alive with the emotion, its union also a great delight. Yet the frame sensed at times, that in comparison to the Great Glass, it was but a mere outcast, a blushing temporary companion, engaged by short arrangement in honour of that Famous Noble Lens. Look, the people would say, perhaps this Pure Crystal offers a perspective suitable to perceive the Great Artist. There is, we believe, an Art capable of cloaking our mysterious ego within a camouflage fabric that might for a moment fully hide our gawky gazes and our haphazard reflections too. Then, perchance, we might finally witness a glimpse of that magnificent Architecture, the Artwork of the Artist, Always making it and baking it. This, they say ... this is the Spectacle and we were all made to inhabit It. What does the immediate scene of our story sound like, look like, feel like? With what sense paramount do you initiate this great voyage of our collective imagination? This strange focus of attention is like a game, whose ball has traversed the Gap. This involved some really wild hopping activity over the internet. The Ball is now in your court. What might you say? Where we go from here is entirely a matter of spontaneity, my friend. Our story unfolds. personal clip board ... we write and edit text. copy and pasting to the common story board. e-mail ... we send bits and pieces of the story to each other and reference them with the links that recall them. 15/4/2003 yeho-shanah