The Scourge of an Interpolated Loom 'The right hand sleeps like a fist adrift, forgotten by it's twin in the future and maligned. Invisible spools revolve in an unseen corner of every page, a path revealing itself through the repetition of patterns. Elspeth is lining herself up to divide into 23 versions of herself and conjure a form, thread in ink, lest we all forget we were fingers on the same hand. A kind of magic for growth. The division of a path on my right palm is the dream of a magnetic snake. Both heads lead to the same heart but a blueprint for the reversal lies elsewhere. As wondrous machinery of an unknown energy breaks down, so it becomes a gravitational loom and a battleground of sorts, to grow our Grand Arbiter of Forms into a vessel for a spell enigmatic. A black hole opened and sealed with broken swords. This was one of the first encounters. The old cards and map are thus rendered incomplete, lustreless and benign. A thousand moons will pass and this moment will make sense, heard as an alarm, awakening the little one from her sleep in orbit, to finally complete a circuit.'