There on ThePalace or WorldsChat there is the silent, immobilized avatar, the image which refuses speech, perhaps whispering or paging elsewhere, the avatar who sits in the midst of others conversing, the silent listener at the party. I imagine a future in which he or she, naked, turns slightly, imperceptibly, at the mention of a name, twitch of an eye - a pornography based on the revelation of planes.

View [x] -> View [x+1] & in the Midst of Silence, this thin Layer as Supplement in Replacement of that Second in the Turn of Diminution.

Such is a Glance at the Sound of a Word to which the Machine Accedes to the Lineaments of inexact Desire.

Such is the Lurker, always already Visible, given the Intravenous of a Body under Siege or Examination. And I am distraught in the midst of my Desire as well, aroused to an Hysteric Degree, simply by the Sight or Site of that Sliver, that Inscription of what is Already Heard.