The Signal Constantin Brancusi 1929

it's about what lays atop the ability to rest there despite a foundation's flaws we're all salvaged from something... bearing nicks, dents - a forever reaching hand grasping empty space click, a landing empty handed from tandem expectations nevertheless, bearings are found/lost and there we lay able to hear until it's dampened 'I sense' the cool curve of an embrace modelled upon the organic you could thread it all together but misalignment... does it always matter? when it is not a leaf not a stalk nor an aerial this is not a tool it is a signal for not anything you think so I won't translate or read into it I will discover questions without answers settle on not knowing things occupy spaces some things interrupt spaces space gets interrupted we just need to carry on looking but not think too hard