I worked on this, from D.C.’s escorts: “You can change yourself into infinity, but still get the changes to the location from where you left...” That feels clear in a symbolic realm. It’s a higher amendment.

Again, I’m doing an accordion fold, a plu-code of the escort’s sensibility (as if I know what any 1 syllable of that means). Reverse stabbings thru-out, they concern writing and writing-2 who meet up in a fixed-action pattern within rational yet imprecise kairos, recycling once or twice.

There are episode interiors silhouetted in projections of analysis that screen the ‘official’ episode. However I believe we’re past the middle and nearing an end to 1; the outlines say there’s a Mammoth Double interior where writing adjusts to incidents of long division, complex facticity that writing-2 tears open and begins to pick at to pay writing off in disappointment, near failure — both writing and writing-2 climbing uphill and sliding back down just before turning 17, biting down, gritting their teeth, growing up.

There’s improvisatory depth to one surface and to their despairing perceptions of what won’t be retained, nothing prime to curate or disbelieve. Writing is a little wiped. So is writing-2. The drawing of the accordion frowning, ready to be seen. 2 is blabbing. Writing is a little fucked up too. “Just starting one.” “Cool.” The thing is not to get fucked up too often.

Teaching is something.