The book is composed of circuits: knots that link themeselves in cylical compromise. The deeper and longer I examine its pages the more complex it becomes. Death, resurrection, and detail are serpents that swallow each other whole. Text and these knots are bound together in patterns of consciousness. Technology innovates the prescence of these folios. I consider the calligraphic instruments, the nibs and the dye. The years are astounded at their own production. Publication alters, some of the originals are lost, some practices forgotten. No one will ever know how these colors were made. What plants were used for dye? What animals comprise these pages? Creation advances from skin to technology, awaiting its organic return.