When my hands touch the cold glossy face of my phone everything feels the same. Beneath my fingertips, all materials and objects merge to one, become subjects to the glass. Bodiless figures gather together below the surface. Rush under, keep over. Feelings and words, images and code. Skin slides. At the tip of my index finger I feel their beat. Emotions break their way through the glass, form sharp edges and cross my skin. In the stream of internet I float.