There was an alphabet of images. They were still until you examined one, then it began to move and change through an intimate sort of feedback with the nature and character of your own person and attention. I was drawn at first to a window that became a dream of me being drawn to a window. Then, there came a storm of living eyes in utter darkness. The darkness became water and the eyes spilled themselves into it, as if reflections in black mercury. These became bees, which became letters slightly swarming. You are reading them now. There was an alphabet of images. They were still until you began to examine one… I saw you there, examining this, and those bees are these words.