By ethanaphex on Skatehive
_ Bellsby @ethanaphex __ A finite but continually advancing space. The only sense available now is sound - the sound of many bells. Some of these bells are deep and low, resounding within the finite space. Others are thin, receding as quickly as they appear. The passing sounds provide a sense of movement. We are progressing forward. That is what our senses tell us. Now, here it is. The full sensorium is returning. First is the smell. Tombs, crypts, catacombs. The smell of hermetically sealed underground caverns. We are indeed moving. Our sense of smell confirms this, for we occasionally pass sections of the space where the hermetic sealing has failed and the smell of rot and mold intrudes upon the cavern of bells. This smell, rather than offending us, is pleasant. It reminds us of the world. The world is organic, and the smell of decay is an inherent part of life's recursive cycle. Light, now. We had almost forgotten it. A new primordium is born, and we are held aloft in its wake. Such