It happened one day when I was overworked and overwhelmed with too many details and too many striking clock hands. And when I rested my elbow upon the rough grey surface of the table, I saw it. A surge. Moving me noticeably. This was not a hallucination. This was not my mind playing with my reality; a bending I was familiar to.
Voltage runs through bone marrow.
I remember continuously finding the energy between my hands. Fast movements, I was always a ball of glowing enigma. Something so mysterious yet so accurate. Movements so determined in defying the slowness of nature.
But this was different; it started without willingness. It came out of nowhere or rather the accumulation of everything. Like the leftover food that never seemed to go away, this motion struck me and left me hanging in constant movement for the following ninety minutes. Never stopping once, but never exhibiting any pattern.
Numbers to stretched apart, it felt like I was weaving in the most infinite of the larger infinity of a pattern who’s familiarity appeared so far into the numbers. But it must’ve been a pattern; this is a design, it doesn’t fall short or fall empty of being.