. . .

When I speak of the old, I speak of too few; here, echoes pressed together: a compress of remains for the treatment of foresight. As they are under-represented they show themselves by repeatedly stripping (paint or chemise).

I myself became old by becoming a cistern: an underearth repeater that continued, continues.

If approach is an act of revealing, what happens when you retreat backwards, gaze caught on the process of hiding; here new genres emerge detailing amputee oracles, halfrevelations.