The parallelistic nature of you and I ebbs in the precipitancy of life. We are both at fault for this, and it is time we make amends. It is only when I slow down that I am able to dwell upon your lineage and the stories you sequester and project. You are a bookmark frozen in the pages every fragment a monument to the minutia and all of humanity's past. You have endured graciously diluted in the background and while I write you in reverence, I must request your resurgence to awaken me. Please, slow me down, slow us all down with your stories, tactility and prognostications about the future.
Although inaudible, we used to communicate more. It was in your adornment I saw reflections of myself. Not through your representational friezes but through the chiseled pocks which left me gazing back to my hands envisioning your consummation. Your matter came from somewhere — the forest, the quarry, the ground — not the factory shelf. This material was then formed and infused with qualia perceived subjectively by us all but perceived nonetheless. You have since grown mute from the flatness of the standardized sheets, boards, and panels. I assure you this is not an atavistic call but rather a request that you once again speak to me through your tactility — not merely your form.
It seems I have lost you veiled in the ramified systems of the networked world. I thought that through grasping at the strands I could stitch together a more true image of what you mean. As if everything could be understood via its connections rather than in its own idiosyncrasies. I realize my fault in this and wish to give you the space to be singular again. In return I ask for you to be progressive — do not cede to be reactionary to the queues of your context. Your capacity manifests in your ability to look beyond your milieu and emerge anew. In doing so you might create a world in your image rather than succumbing to be a representation of the world.
Perhaps in earnest this is a request upon myself, for you are a parallel of me, if only through my eyes, but I give you your voice and choose to listen or neglect. Am I adept in my discourse to give you the bravado to speak for our times? Can I imbue your assemblage with a communicative craft? Do I have the confidence to let you set the tone of our conversation and breed denizens akin to your altruism?
For our sake we hope.