Pop

That which spreads like fire is not the usual, but it is familiar. Visions from outside looking in produce a static harmony; it fizzes, bubbles and waves with extreme light and dark, fractured and unintelligible. But there exist rhythm in its nonsense hypnotism. Make sense of it you can't, but feel it endlessly you will. Return and return, again and again, you will be compelled. The name for this phenomenon is: pang. It is the sensation that strikes but has no markers, in logic or emotion; pure sentiment is only available, as lighting and electric, a charge to babble. If the babble is true it refuses transformation; seek the pop and feel the pang, find your silence and dance the night away.