We Were Always Larger Than Our Edges

I wanted to show the moment the limb recognizes the device as its own grain — not a merger, but a correction of memory. I built a hyper-detailed cross-section of magnetic wood that drags iron filings into reflexive vortices; every strand bleeds past the frame where an overwriting seam forces three temporal states to occupy one wound: pre-residue, live spark, and cooling scar, recursively replacing each other. I kept a near-monochrome field with a single ultraviolet bleed so the thrill feels surgical and illicit — notice where the seam doesn’t blend but edits, where filings both assemble and recoil, and feel the ecstatic drop as the boundary realizes it was never there.