Noises/Inhalation/Exhalation.

"It" is not merely an image; it is a sentient entity, a progeny of the shadow, conceived and born forth by it. It cannot exist in isolation, for its very essence is respiration—an inhalation suffused with noise, an ephemeral sustenance that courses through its lungs, sculpting the contours of its being. Devoid of volition, the image succumbs to the shadow’s mercurial drift, dissolving into the nebulous haze that guides it toward the genesis of the new and the dissolution of the old.

This noise is not a passive backdrop but the very byproduct of an incessant metamorphosis. It emanates from the image’s corporeal substance—a fluid, evanescent, and volatile form that undergoes vaporization under the immense, unrelenting pressure of an internal degree. The tension, coiled within its existence, compels it to fragment, to dissipate into particulate murmurs, only to coalesce once more in an unceasing cycle of dissolution and reconstitution. This is the perpetual cadence of its breath, a rhythm that knows no reprieve.

The composition subsists within this flux: it mutates, meanders, expands, and contracts, its tempo fluctuating in accordance with the unfolding of events. The noise surges, saturating the void, then recedes into hushed interludes, ceding space to the omnipresent shadow. It is an unending cascade of transfigurations, an existence devoid of permanence—only ephemeral instants of emergence and retreat.

In this tremulous domain, there are no definitive boundaries, no immutable constants—only the ceaseless oscillation between states. The image, begotten by shadow, persists within this rhythm—subjugated yet animate, bound inexorably to the inexhaustible law of motion. It is the specter of a specter, the reverberation of vanishing vapor, a scion of noise, subsisting upon the breath of its own evanescence.