in die länge gezogener Geistesblitz

The endless seeming elusive moves. Bricks are stratified and keeping time together. One day later an empty bottle rolls over a grain of sand and its echo is caught up in the masonry, in its chinks. Sound emerges and dies away or gets trapped. I can do anything with this.

Condense, boost, deepen and decelerate. Just throw away or conserve in a dark dry cave. The chinks of the bell tower.
 
(Stefan Rummel)