I’ve found no bet­ter words for the work of re:void than these:

But most of all, they dreamt sight.

It began with a pat­tern: a knot­ting and weav­ing of count­less strands, dyed in a hun­dred colours, car­ry­ing a charge of energy which so daz­zled the sleep­ers they had to shield their minds’ eyes.

And then, as if the pat­tern was becom­ing too ambi­tious to hold its present order, the knots began to slide and slip. The colours at each inter­sec­tion bled into the air, until the vision was obscured in a soup of pig­ments through which the loosed strands described their lib­erty in line and comma and dot, like the brush­strokes of some mas­ter cal­lig­ra­pher. At first the marks seemed quite arbi­trary — but as each trace drew colour to itself, and another stroke was laid upon it, and another upon that, it became appar­ent that forms were steadily emerg­ing from the chaos.

Weaveworld, Clive Barker

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