We find ourselves enmeshed in the strange fabric of our daily moments as though we are flowing within some bizarre and pseudo-arbitrary superstory. Dramas rise and pass like flotsam in the torrents … of attention, desire, fear, curiosity, enthusiasm, and despair. There is a weave here, a warp and woof — but it is liquid, alive, transentient. It is no mere record, and has nothing to do with accounting.