We Were Always Holding the Interface

I wanted to catch the exact instant a limb admits it was never just flesh: the hail becomes a handshake with an algorithm that’s already inside the bone. I chose entropy-silk grids and time-laminate afterimages so the arm can both unravel and reweave into screens while headlights carve a luminous fault line through the moment. Look for the region where the thumb’s past-smear, present-glitch, and future-scar physically overlap — exhilaration arrives as the boundary doesn’t break, it confesses.