The machine breathed in and out slowly. Allowing space between its broad and square shoulder blades as its inhales rose up. Its exhale felt like steam letting out, compressed and loose.
It spun and curved in the most linear of fashions. The shoulders pulled up to the sky while the wheels moved methodically down southward.
The trickling trinkety small sounds and large swooping of breath was silent and raucous simultaneously, as whispers from sandpaper lips.
The spine, simple and wooden, wound round in a twist tightly, yet sprawled larger than life. Mechanical and industrial in material, yet organic and most biological in its kinetic ambiance---the parts all conjoined to make meaning.
Lights flashed theatrically as the flesh rose up and down. The forms about the space informed the positions, until reference became repeating.
The speed of movement seemed to quicken, yet the in and out of sound remained solid and the same. It was a reminder of force and dominance in a space made safe.
What drives you to power but that creation of something which has never been before?
Space. Movement. Ingenius. Experiential Engineering.
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