-  Fiction - The Atmospheric Vernacular









In Memory
Sean Pettibone



The Atmospheric Vernacular

Consisting of determined elicitations and invocative formulations, her resplendent composition appeared to diminish in size and scale while I reconsidered its meaning, purpose and, function. I'd tenuously determined the shapes and forms within wouldn't respond in any tangible manner to my extensive contortions and ceremonial exhortations. Arriving at this unsatisfying observation left me frustrated and perplexed, unable to determine an instructive manner how to proceed further without my efforts seeming redundant or worse, inconsistent. Watching her carefully, she held herself with a noticeably detached observance, standing just beyond the periphery of the room, entering the sliver of light temporally set until its emanations diminished. Considering further incursions on my part wouldn't be productive, I decided not to engage deeper into her composition. I maintained a measured remove out of a sense of deliberate caution while inspired with enduring admiration. The composition was the sole result of her design, an inexplicably redolent summation of her work, consistently flexible in its form while remaining flexible within its boundaries. Its surface commanded attention without demanding obedience, its untraceable lines and unmistakable paths guided my eyes into her indomitable shapes.

These tentative incursions were held in expectation by an underlying fear of discouragement and a sense of admonishment. I'd already taken more than necessary from the page. The putative easel's static surface remained unflinching despite my repeated attempts to encourage reciprocation. I withdrew from its immediate circumference and took a detached perspective. Unsettled by the disappointing conclusion that I wouldn't learn more from the painting in spite of any further additional work, I stumbled around the room for a while, draining motivation and unsettling balance in the process. It took me several steps to regain perspective, but the unavoidable realization gradually became less intimidating when I stepped back additional paces, further weakening its hold. Taking that vantage allowed me to visualize its forms in a marginally objective perspective. This wasn't easy considering their continued emotive entanglements. Combined in determinedly clandestine approximations, they reinforced each others' passive resolve, evading further elucidations on my part. With that stagnant arrangement in place, the composition converged in fermentive fashion, its surface collapsed into a singular design that fell into a far less threatening shape. She managed to take a step closer toward the canvas pages and looked at them carefully in a deferential, efficient manner. She didn't appear concerned by the lack of movement, instead complimenting me once more on my faithful reconstructions of her work. I was surprised that she wasn't immediately dismissive of the designs I'd hurriedly composed and found myself somewhat relieved. Perhaps, all my hard work and extensive ruminations hadn't been for naught.

Standing at the room's other end, Gemine shared her admiration to a degree, praising my persistent while simultaneously pointing out my composition's imperfections with a noticeable degree of frustration. Walking closer, she told me that I shouldn't rush through the process and take a more determined, systematic approach. This was a strange conjecture considering the intuitive approach she'd demonstrated to that point. I waited for my formative companion to reconsider her judgment but Gemine's subjective rejoinder hadn't swayed her initial conclusion. She relayed the difficulty encountered marking the more intricate portions of the page and implementing the elaborate designs herself, reflecting that my task was probably more difficult due to the inherent complexity of her drawings. Gemine tangibly responded to this explanation and defense by closing in on the canvas sheet, navigating across the room silently to gain a better look. As she stepped into the inner sanctum directly in front of the stalwart pages' intractable forms, I heard a slight echo in the distance. It wasn't immediately clear what might have caused the noise and it reverberated so softly, it would have been easy to overlook. An extended silence followed and we quickly returned attention to the composition. Its precise meaning and unresolved indications remained elusive as the two mysterious figures at each side of me compared the form's parallel design from a predominantly aesthetic perspective. They seemed to purposely avoid enunciating an underlying purpose to the design. I wondered whether that was precisely the problem I was continually encountering. Contemplating an unfortunate conclusion, I reached a determination that, perhaps there was no tangible meaning behind her elaborate shapes after all.

Despite reflective optimism, persistent uncertainties clouded my thoughts, deflecting conducive insight. I came to an increasingly discouraging realization I'd probably squandered my efforts looking for something hidden that wasn't there. Feeling a bit lost, I wandered around, pacing across the floor in uncoordinated circles. Becoming increasingly discouraged, I felt my eyes droop down towards the floor with a growing sense of defeat, then closed completely, Unable to sustain my conditional theories any longer, I slipped into a dejected state, unable to find reassurance in the design's appearance, taking her instructive advice in the wrong way. I felt the surrounding area collapsing around me, the increasing futility of my work becoming increasingly apparent. A deepening malaise overtook me until I had to turn around to avoid further contact with the easel. Slouching downward, my body succumbed to the ignominy of the situation and I felt myself sinking into the ground, falling helplessly beyond reach. Waiting in uncomfortable silence with growing desolation, I hoped one of them would put a hand on my shoulder or hold out a slight tap for encouragement but nothing of the kind occurred. The silence grew louder with every moment, Despairing, I hoped for some kind of reciprocation from them. I waited with increasing anxiety, without response, They appeared to have abandoned me there, forcing me to deal with the consequences of the misguided quest without reassurance. I waited in the stagnant air for what felt like forever until I heard a small disruption. This seemed like a strange occurrence, but nothing extraordinary. It could have been a shifting crate or box hitting the ground. A simple explanation would be involve something heavy fell down or crashed in a nearby room. The uneasy calm shattered moments later when another distant sound reached us and echoed within the room. This unexpected interruption elicited just enough energy to rouse me from encumberment and I looked around the room. Listening closely beyond the walls, straining my bleary eyes across the room's exterior, I made an effort to discover the instigation's source.

Several additional clasps of noise bounced across the room's walls, they seemed to grow louder and closer with each permutation until it seemed they'd come dangerously close to the doorway. Closed, but not firmly the door shook on its loose hatch as the noise increased in volume and duration. Hearing a warning of the impending encounter elicited a strange reaction from the other figures. Quietly, she sprinted across the floor. She moved effortlessly beyond the perimeter into the slender band of light and reached for the papers on the easel. Forcefully grabbing it from the easel, she turned around at me and narrowed her focus, defensively. She didn't give the pages another glance before hastily rolling them up. Holding the folded pages in her hands in firm grasp, she slid it beneath her cloak, hiding it from unwanted view. The noise continued drawing closer toward us and seemed to produce a more determined, consistent pace as it came closer. Sliding away from the vulnerable doorway, Gemine took a forceful, defiant posture as the conflagration moved inevitably closer towards the room. Hearing what sounded like alternating noises, each sounded like it was coming from a distinct direction. I grew increasingly nervous and took a step back in her direction until we stood directly across from each other. Intensifying rapidly, the consecutive noise arrived at inexorably closer range. Taken aback by its ferocious pace, we cowered slightly as it converged on our location unabated. It didn't sound random or dislocated, but premeditated, infused with intentional movement seeming to involve an steady, concerted and unwavering mission.

Aiming squarely in our direction, the systemic rhythms constrained within the corroborated noise unfolded and stratified until their sound became unmistakable. As successive noised followed, it was obvious that the noises were clearly propelled by footsteps. The distinctive loud clasps of rigidly-tailored metallic shoes colliding with the ground in ever-more strident fashion. There was undeniable confidence and determination behind the endeavor, which only increased as the resounding steps arrived at discomforting proximity. Mounting tension came to a peak as the noise stopped just short of the unguarded doorway. There was an uncertain halt until an invisible hand seemed to push the door open unceremoniously without meeting significant pushback. It gave way reluctantly at first, but any defenses subsided quickly. Without a visible lock or key gaps to impede any incursion, it took little effort to breach the outer vestibule. The doorway slowly opened, and its somewhat combined hinges creaked warily for several uneasy moments until its residual opposition evaporated. With a forceful push, the weakened door flew outward without further recalcitrance. Ambient light from the outer hallway flooded into the room, initially obscuring the figure standing in front of the entrance. Taking several steps in our direction into the radiating light filled in the blurry outlines quickly. Walking confidently past the entrance with intrinsic confidence, elicited pronounced, footsteps that left a distinctive sound in their wake. The rhythm and cadence were immediately recognizable. Taking a final confident leap ahead, the features clarified unmistakably, instantaneously revealing an unanticipated but welcome sight. His enigmatic figure emerged from the shadows in silhouette before walking underneath its narrowly-framed precipice.

I immediately determined who the personage standing in front of us was. The immaculate lines of his familiar dark-blue suit appeared sharp and crisp. His pointed, steely black shoes bore a strident bearing, sprinting ahead fearlessly in a forceful, unyielding cadence. Scanning upward, his perfectly-folded necktie and accompanying napkin complimenting his shirt sharply His attire was stark and professional, yet he emanated an undeniable warmth and comfort. Instantaneously, he grinned in our direction. His relaxed face brought forth a flourish of reassurance and confidence that shattered my uncertainties. Any intangible threat evaporated, replaced emphatically with invigorating and determined confidence as he strode fearlessly in our direction. I looked him over carefully, and was surprised that he wasn't carrying his usual stack of papers and envelopes. Unburdened by their weight, his arms moved freely as he glided into the room. His easy demeanor marked the space with invigorating force. Standing at a distance, I waited for him to walk further into the room. Looking directly ahead, he moved right past me and the easel, headed straight towards the eastern side of the room. His unallayed movement brought immediate attention, as he walked towards her unreservedly. Obstentially relieved of a culmative pressure, she didn't wait and moved past the easel, quickly ensconced in front of our reconnected companion.

Gemine paused for a moment before waving then embracing him warmly for several moments. They reconnected almost telepathically. They held each other firmly and only separated after their renewed consecration was fulfilled. They slowly separated from their mutual embrace but remained connected, they held each other's hands with undiminished support. Confirming her recognition, she resolved the situation with a quick nod in Gemine's direction, signaling there was no need for concern. Gemine's agitated demeanor diminished, but didn't entirely vanish when she took a step closer. It seemed that she recognized him, but she had numerous unresolved questions. That remained. She smiled and complimented his fastidious and resplendent appearance but curiously asked him where he'd been hiding for such a long time. Gemine held back in a cautious manner, and didn't extend her hands to embrace him, instead keeping an unexplained remove. After several moments' reflection, he responded carefully that he'd been preoccupied with extensive temporal travels and itinerate missions too numerous to explain. Waving in her direction, he cheerfully indicated he'd encountered surprisingly interesting associations along his figuratively-stratified yet oddly coherent journey. She didn't seem entirely convinced by his explanation, inquiring further about his sudden reappearance after vanishing for an extended interruption. He seemed taken off-guard by her questioning and attempted to explain that he'd spent an extended period distracted, but reassured her that he never forgot their previous encounters, her loyalty or his promises.

The inherent fortification of their unspoken connection remained strong but its perimeter had become tenuous and frayed to a degree that wasn't articulated clearly. There remained an unspoken fissure that created an obtrusive length between them that couldn't be easily breached. A growing sense of entropy and insistent doubt beneath the surface was evident. Both of them stood at a slight distance, unable to resume their hibernative partnership easily. Standing back at a distant measure, his eyes looked in her direction cautiously, not completely at ease with her location. Sharing his disorientation, she took a pace backward, crossing her hands before insisting upon further elaboration. Holding an increasingly forceful tone, she inquired with increased importance and waited for his response intently. He was unsure how to respond, mumbling quietly that there was more than he'd explain later. Unconvinced by his display, she made another attempt to understand his motivation. Gemine asked him to explain precisely how he was able to locate her. This seemed strange since her clandestine location, residing quietly within the shimmering tower, was purposely clandestine. almost invisible. She wondered how we'd found her. Reminding us that we'd entered her tower without explanation, Gemine told us that it wasn't possible for us to find her unless we held complex directions or arrived at her location thanks prominently indicated signals that were visible in a tangible manner.

He kept himself at a constricted angle standing resolutely at a secure measure outside the perimeter. Concealing his inner thoughts, the erstwhile Navigator purposely avoided making further declarations in order to maintain neutral remove. Providing himself an intentional distance allowed him to observe without explaining his methods or motivations. Becoming noticeably more defense. he crouched downward at a noticeable angle. Unwilling to elaborate further, standing further back, pushing farther away, almost running away from her intrusive questions with unexpected defensiveness. His silent repose and suddenly defensive posture indicated he wouldn't respond to her questioning. She interjected from the other side of the room and told Gemine that she'd set out the search without telling him who their objective was. She explained to Gemine the outlines behind their complex mission and their elaborate efforts undertaken to locate the island, then navigate its rocky shores before reaching the narrow tower where she resided. Gemine seemed surprised that she'd extended such an extensive effort to find elusive answers. expressing astonishment with the inordinate time and energy required to find her. Gamine then wondered why they'd expended so much time on this encounter. She seemed surprised by this question, and took several minutes to contemplate a reasonable explanation. Finally, she told Gemine that some things happened unexpectedly, she maintained a largely intuitive approach and wasn't entirely expecting to find her, at least not so quickly, Feeling somewhat unburdened, she reiterated her conclusion, telling Gemine in a consistent, yet unsteady tone that our unlikely encounter as mostly the culmination of serendipitous exploration. Defending our indeterminate methods didn't appear to completely mitigate her uncertainty, but Gemine seemed to partially accept my nebulous explanation.

Accepting this marginally believable construction allowed her to shift focus. She looked back in my direction intently that sharply broke into unsettling conversation. I felt her inhuman gaze piercing through my body once more, her steady gaze permeating my exterior with unavoidable strength. Watching our invocative encounter elicited an instinctively protective technique within her. Gliding between us instinctively without hesitation, she broke the spell and faced Gemine directly. I wasn't sure what she was doing, but she reframed the tense situation immediately by leaning in her direction and making a confounding pronouncement I didn't anticipate in the slightest. Carefully gliding into the interior, until she stood just beyond the easel, she paused before making an ostentatious statement. Holding her breath before pivoting slightly upward, she reached a proficient position, resting for a brief interval to build her reserve. After reinforcing her capabilities and building subconscious momentum, she finally worked up enough courage to ask Gemine whether she recognized me. This took her off-guard and she appeared taken by complete surprise.

It was instantaneously obvious that unanticipated connotation was something Gemine hadn't even slightly contemplated or considered. This disconcerting observation was beyond comprehension. She looked me over, scanning up and down and side to side nervously. She shook her head negatively, before hastily implying that the entire concept behind her question was baffling and made no sense. Anticipating quick dismissal of her theory, she told her to look at me again carefully, and make sure she wasn't rushing past an important detail or signature she might have glanced over. She carefully asked Gemine to think back carefully. She wondered if she could see familiar patterns or unlikely reflections within the canvas and my paintings. Telling Gemine there was no need to rush, she pointed towards the easel. She placed the paper on its surface. It hadn't gotten wrinkled during the intervening period. She wondered if she noticed anything familiar about my work. Holding her fingers in place, studied the painting's elaborate forms and designs with surprising effort. She thought indeterminately for a prolonged interval suffused with rising tension and uncertainty. After taking several moments' consideration, she seemed to arrive at an unlikely determination.

With convergent reluctance and accompanying redolence, she eventually confessed that said she recognized several elements of my work that were similar to someone she once knew many years ago, but initially thought the parallels were merely coincidental. Upon further reflection, she admitted to wondering about the origins of my seemingly prodigal capabilities. Gemine's questions and uncertainties grew as she observed my working with the pencil. She'd provided me with a tangential foundation but decided against making further instructions when she observed me making remarkable progress without her assistance or guidance. She thought my capabilities could have been the result of extensive practice and studies at first. When she looked closely, she explained that she realized that I understood the underlying language, able to comprehend its difficult convergence and complicated structure intuitively. Working unaided, she was impressed that I was able to proceed with only occasional barriers and scattered deficiencies. I couldn't explain or understand the inexplicable prescience on my part was visible despite the fact that her initial composition's basis should have been entirely unknown to my inexperienced eyes.

My hesitant, temporally withdrawn efforts appeared gleaming in sporadic junctures while others arrived in partially realized form. It seemed the composure was mainly infused with an undefined manner of conviction. She reiterated her determination that she found my approach lifted higher than she anticipated, my illustration ascending to heights she hadn't realized I could achieve. She seemed genuinely impressed with the work but remained uncertain as to its inspiration. My rough sketches and resulting approximations maintained an unusual quality despite their uneven lines that consistently exceeded anything she'd anticipated from my inexperienced hands. Taking a step towards the easel., she looked it over carefully but still couldn't comprehend its durability. Her somewhat confused expression filtered a persistent inability on her part to rationalize the composition's accuracy and consistency. Contemplating it as she moved tentative steps closer, she waved her hands across the shapes and lines, extracting minimal elaboration in the process. Turning in my direction, her fingers began moving back in forth rapidly. This seemed to signal a frustration that she wasn't able to articulate clearly. Looking me over closely, her prolonged inspection left me feeling uneasy and nervous. Convinced that there was more to me than I might have revealed, she made a determined effort and watched me closely but couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. I couldn't enunciate a single word in my own defense, standing silently, overwhelmed within her silent admonishment.

After several fruitless minutes across from me, she turned and walked away from me, expressing confusion as to how exactly I'd been able to reiterate her original works so intuitively without the need for external guidance. I became somewhat embraced and walked ahead, reminding her of the work's numerous flaws and inconsistencies. Her praise and admiration seemed excessive, especially considering my limited skill and formative designs. She contemplated my explanation for a moment, then overlook the visible problems it displayed. Focusing her attention on its abundant qualities, she inferred a greater meaning to it than I intended, openly wondering where precisely I'd learned how to preform such complicated work. Shifting to a pronounced disbelief, she told me that she remained unable to completely rationalize how I was able to copy her work's intricate design within the limited set by the simple, humble pencil. Examining its design closely, she uncovered numerous inconsistent elements that diverged from her templates, falling short in significant fashion, my fingers somehow angling around her considered perspective. This drew a strange emanation when she unexpectedly stepped away from the easel, then clapped her hands together with a mixture of deflation and anxiety.

She'd derived only partial insight, and couldn't follow the lines as easily at it might have seemed initially; Evincing a measure of indecision, redolently admitting that she'd reached an impasse. She'd gotten all she could from that location and was settling for my reluctant demeanor. Holding back from further deliberation, she decided not to delay further progress. Deciding to step out of my way. she reiterated her original approach and advised me, in an unexpectedly forceful tone, to continue working on the piece, something might emerge if I maintained my pace. Resuming her silent observation emphatically signaled that she didn't know precisely how to respond, she eventually decided to keep herself out of my way while maintaining her silent observance. Concluding that while she couldn't entirely dismiss her concern, she realized there was likely a rational explanation behind my reflective work's disorienting parallels, and paradoxical resuscitation. Deciding against further inspection and examination, she pushed herself back, standing at a distant remove, allowing me to work uninterrupted, taking a step away, at a determined measure outside my field of vision.

Listening carefully on the other side of the room, from a surprisingly audible proximity that allowed him to hear and see everything we did unobtrusively, the Navigator suddenly interjected with unexpected boldness, wondering if there was an unknown relation or ancestor in my past that might explain the previously hidden mirrors and reflections within the work. He noted that she'd assumed an immediate resumption of their connection then proceeded forward like no time had elapsed. Shaking his head warily, he declared a convergent uncertainty, that additional layers had possibly come into view. This might have occurred without realizing what was happening. He explained that these divergent paths and incoherent lines grew increasingly visible the longer he watched. They diverged often enough to create intrinsically skewed reflections. Their erratic forms grew increasingly unreliable and caused us to arrive at imprecise conclusions. He looked in her direction with increased confidence, his voice sharpening as he spoke in clear, distinctive terms. He enunciated an initial period of vexation but carefully followed his instincts until he reached a more pronounced determination. There was definitely an undeniable spark of inspiration, but he wasn't sure where it had derived, either. .He wondered, whether the repeated elements and parallel shapes represented tangible objects, instead abstract shapes. I maintained a quiet distance, not because I was purposely keeping my motivations secrets but because I wasn't entirely sure of its origins or meaning myself. I had no desire to interfere with his expounding theories, I allowed him to continue without speaking up. He continued to internalize the composition and form a rough idea that would explain its disorganized structures and languid connotations. To his eyes, the reflective forms appeared to indicate a predetermined meaning, he stated the occurrence of multiple recurring phenomenon seemed to invoke something beyond a hypothetical experiment. Further explaining, he surmised that the source of our confusion was kept purposely clouded in order to conceal its elusive source.

Walking towards the easel and leaning towards for a better angle. His shoes skipped over the floors partially sliding across them but he wasn't distracted. He surmised in a simplification, that he assumed that perhaps, the distinctive creations maintained a clear signature purposely designed to keep further insight from view. The elaborate shapes were purposely elaborate in order to effectively hide their underlying purpose. His words were determined, somewhat energized by their challenging structure but he remained outwardly calm. Rising incrementally, his voice rose gradually while he pondered the unseen composition's internal contradictions and puzzling elements. The resonant compositions her unyielding machine imprinted were likely substantial on their own, but reflected greater residing purpose or visible function. His theories grew increasingly complicated and his coherence seemed to fall short of the task upon further intuition. My contradictory statements caught up with each other, tangling their lines inside each other's scrambled signatures, making coherent conclusions impossible to a degree. Their routes tangled and spun outward in uncontrolled directions. It appeared that he'd wandered off the aesthetic path, making a series of incorrect judgments of implicit meaning. Locating their underlining objective weren't entirely coherent, their routes remained unclear despite my extensive effort into perfecting their design while maintain a faithful recreation of her composition. Copying her work wasn't as easy as it might have seemed on the surface, but recreating the complex designs was worth the effort. Sharing similar imprints elicited a level of emotive familiarity and mechanical comprehension that couldn't be discovered merely watching it passively. Implementing a rough approximation only provided compartmental, incomplete elucidation but allowed encouraging revelations to occur frequently.

Despite lacking the physical motivation I'd tangentially achieved by mechanically copying her work, he wasn't entirely capable of comprehending the collated designs' intricate, near-subliminal convergence. Sensing that he was heading towards a misguided formulation of his theories, she worked quickly to halt further contortions. She hastily walked towards the easel and set herself firmly between then until her dark, cloaked silhouette blocked the blank canvas from his view. She decided that talking in the abstract was getting them nowhere. Taking several paces in his direction, she turned towards the easel and decided to provide him additional insight that would undermine his assumptions while conversely offering additional insight, however reluctantly. She needed something tangible to use and deduced that further elaboration was needed. Quickly unrolling her original page from her cloak, re-opening its frame. Fearlessly re-placing alongside my connotative image. Their parallel forms instantaneously converged and the emotive figures within the easel seemed to come to life. They hadn't lost any of their integral energy, the page's surface remained open and untorn.

Spreading it out until my rough approximation was fully visible, she carefully glided across the surface. He walked over and stood directly in front of my reflective composition for the first time, looking between the facing pages with an unexpected emotion. He was startled and began folding and twisting his neck-tie and handkerchief before smoothing his jacket's pockets with a sense of incomprehension. He expressed surprise at this sight and that he finally understood why she was so startled by its competent layout and energetic flourish . Seeming both confused and impressed, he looked it over for an unexpectedly long interval in order to contemplate the illustrations' comparative qualities. This allowed a clear view of the functionality, quality and inspiration of the design. Brightly illuminated under the resplendent light, allowed a direct, unobstructed exposure caught him seemingly unprepared, he stepped back from the canvas, almost jumping in somewhat shocked motion. Their unnaturally parallel forms and connotative shapes appeared to change his conclusions and perspective significantly.

Surmising that the design was far more elaborate and detailed than he anticipated, he took a step back to look over the illustrations with greater curiosity than his initial thoughts construed. He didn't make any profound signals with his fingers, holding his hands firmly within his jacket, not trembling or shaking in the slightest His expression remained tranquil but when I looked closely, I saw his eyes darting back and forth across the page rapidly. Taking several surprisingly tranquil steps closer, I tried to gain a better view and possibly explain my illustrations. I started to apologize for its rough surfaces and inconsistent design, but he didn't respond immediately. He kept studying the work but gave no indication of his response. He seemed taken off-pace with my unexpected humility, but maintained a steady demeanor. Before I could continue demeaning the work, I heard loud steps. Looking upward, I realized Gamine was standing between us, partially blocking my view. Issuing an unexpected admonishment to keep my distance, she stepped directly in front of the easel, completely obscuring any productive viewpoint. He proceeded with his work in muted form for several minutes' before telling me he was finished. Turning in her direction, he told Gemine not to be alarmed. Realizing that he'd arrived at a more thorough understanding, she walked closely and listened intently to his determinations.
He began explaining that he felt she might have purposely originated their divergent appearance to create an elaborate series of repeated echoes in order to unlock greater revelations. Examining the designs carefully revealed divergent forms that appeared connected but he couldn't be precise since there weren't further visible elaborations beyond the symbols. Turning in my direction he expressed convergent admiration, saying he was likewise impressed that I'd managed to reconstruct such an intricate work without prompting, He wondered if she'd taught or assisted me with the design and reiterated its underlying function remained hidden to his eyes. I took a measure of pride in the work's unexpected quality but keep my ego in check. Outwardly, I showed a measure humility, reluctantly signaling my uncertainties in the negative. Attempting to elaborate, I told him how both of the mysterious figures left me to follow my own instincts unhindered by external interference. His demeanor changed as he listened to my incoherent, incomplete explanation. It seemed to become more convoluted and inconsistent the longer we spoke. Listening attentively to us talk without interrupting, she appeared to accept the strange methods elucidated, but couldn't entirely explain the motivations possibly lurking behind my partially-realized designs, the exterior accentuations a finishing, sub-surface details still remained largely unrealized. Their incomplete designs likely added to his confusion and uncertainty. I wanted to tell him not to rush to judge my unfinished designs, but she spoke before I could work up enough courage to elaborate further.

 - Michael Palisano