The Temple lays broken in every corner - dormant machinery rusting, it's consciouss wilting in phi inert orbit of death - used by broken operators who don't understand it's functions.
I am breaking in on the collapse of waveforms within PK Nikon 444...
twitter chips splintering the timers wet noise a tube is loose and vibrating somewhere an exhaust vent
a thousand metallic wheels burr coalate and tabulate the fine machinery
shuffling
settings feedback signals dance like insect call and response a harmony of circutry resonates on biologic schematics of language light tiny invisible wires that actually actually go into the head to find the centers of imagination.
sonar ripples like a drummer rappidly tapping tapping the surface of all bio taunt electro tensions
insect sounds
this is the rubbing of legs hollow legs of electrical sense overpowering emmissions of scent
a shaking and vibrating of wings
a cockroach
oh...wait that is here...now the old type writer is coming to life.
It is a old Monarch that has a wooden carry case...there it is...