an appropriate title if there ever was one. these loose, noisy improvisations dangle in the air, communicating in the way of the old world. telegraph lines hang in the balance, hoping not to snap under the pressure. claustrophobic whirs and buzzes sit next to fuzzy drones, all hoping that their imminent death isn't just around the corner. there's a subtle, fragile beauty here, too. but i find that in all things chaotic. 95 copies