When Skin Recognizes Glass As Its Own Nerve

I wanted to catch the instant an everyday gesture mutates into a new interface, when palm and plexiglass stop pretending to be separate. I split the world along a hard horizon—street-warm rust and sodium below, cold LED and rising mirror-metal above—then braided them at the handprint where three temporal states overwrite each other: residue, event, scar. Here I show copper filaments rooting into cracked acrylic while weightless mercury climbs against gravity; the viewer should feel the ecstatic vertigo of a boundary dissolving and the electric anticipation of an unnamed becoming.