And in some way the mechanism that makes this internal fiber vibrate is set in motion. The magic formula. We know that it exists because we have experienced the symptoms. The conjunction of memories and sensations that give rise to this special emotion that brings us into contact with what we once were. The masters of enchantment knew how to open the mysterious phial, peeling away the skin of civilization that history has formed around the animal. Styx, Summer, Egypt. The boatman and the coin. Greece. Sparta. Pandora. Ishtar and the Serpent. The Necronomicon. Viking runes. Celtic legends. Velázquez and Vulcan. Goya. Wagner. Tolkien and the dwarves. Lovecraft and Chtulhu. The remote cadence that transports us to the origin. Water, air, fire and earth.

Enter, close your eyes and breathe.

Minute residues in suspension that transform a biological response into a bridge to our ancestral past.

We will go side by side with the Minotaur through the labyrinth. We will climb in reverent ascent the thousand steps to pay tribute to the Aztec sun. Dust, sweat, iron. Primordial heat of the crucible. Ashes. Ruins. Embers on the pyre.