A2 = Aylu x AGF ≡ wööörrrrrrk do-nut. This equation proves itself entirely true. Dabbling mathematics turn senses out of alphabets. Lessons learned are those scribbled, as notes, exchanged, ripped, and discarded so as to be properly digested.
The five emphatic tracks trail and veer and escalate and droop and enlighten as particularly good secrets told. And in the last track, “donut wørrrrr”, we hear the shuffling of papers, perhaps a page turned and torn from a book to cycle between their digital hands.
This release moves like a long idea perfect in it being thunk. It’s a narrative of exchange that resists resolution, because there is none, and that’s also no fun. To stop, to end, to name, to define, to solidify, no no. I’d rather stay right here with them chattering through this ever denser a2ir.
