Monographic

If you let yourself shrink down to the point where photons might be dodged simply by turning all the way around, behind the left side of the thirty-fifth marker you’ll see a series of buttons which, when pressed in a sequence outlined and hidden within the second footnote in the opening chapter to the third edition of A Series of Extended Monographies (ask yourself, is there any way to *chart* the boundaries, rather than *extend* them?), you’ll unlock what can only be described as a mental topography of uniquely situated highs and lows, that is, your wavelengths, your inner most deeply held convictions that, once spread out in front of you, once there to see, linear, to chart, to rearrange, yes, that’s when, with the same exacting standards you salvaged in order to cope with the pressing need to recreate the sensation of floating halfway between the inside of the outermost limits of infinite possibility and the crushing finality of an inability to sink any further, it’s not only within the realm of possibility to explore the trans-dimensionality of the nature of once hopeless despair, but you’ll be struck by an urgent sensation, almost not unlike wanting to breathe, sheer, take me closer, you’ll say, make it find a way to ... a lasting sense of ... right, and then, when it’s time to rematerialize, if there’s a fraction of revelation that’s able to be stolen back, try to make sure it’s the part that whispers, the part that says, in a whisper.