webcam raze two fixed-focus lenses feed their optics to an image-sensing microchip, grids of light detectors too small to be seen converting us into binary patterns. the wires that connect us interpret the math we make, rebuilding our fingers and faces with all the grain and grandeur we require. what moves through us pumps air into what's been made two-dimensional out of necessity, and in an instant, there you are in front of me, making hushed music out of my name. your voice has only grown sweeter in all the years it's gone unheard. there were always pictures in my mind. now they have sounds to keep them company. may you never be silenced again. 220207 what's it to you? who go blather from