Gossamer lines of silver cross the space carrying upward a thousand solar widths into the greying atmosphere. Tendrils of time frozen here, in a pocket of reality where they are made as tangible as gravity and magnetism, plucked as strings they send out sonorous waves that reverberate throughout the impossible chamber and shiver the other lines. Established chronologies are altered with the smallest graze. A cascade of cause and effect follows the simplest movement.
The organist cracks their knuckles and prepares to play.
Paddy Dobson
15th February 2021