Small holes punctuate
Small holes punctuate the poles, each a dark mouth where wires vanish into a complex network. A faint metallic tang hangs in the air as you follow interwoven gradients along their surfaces; information doesn’t flow *between* them so much as echo within the system. Like faded etchings on weathered metal, distortions linger—impressions of past signals embedded in the structure long after they cease transmission. These hubs preserve not only where connections *aren*, but also where they once existed, a quiet accumulation of absence and return.