i always thought the mechanical sound was hypnotic and retro because it makes me recall the days mother made us learn typewriting from the red top black spiral bound learn typewriting book. make a mistake and you have to type the whole chapter again. liquid paper not allowed. but apparently, c.s. lewis thinks otherwise. from 'letters of c.s. lewis', "(7) don't use a typewriter [ when writing ]. the noise will destroy your sense of rhythm, which still needs years of training."

because the depths and layers add on and fuse together to burst into rich clouds of weight and glory and you start to connect to life with a sixth, seventh, eight [and so on] sense. i don't really know how to articulate this, but it's perhaps like a dancer in a degas painting witht the sunlight filtering in through iron-patterned windows, the attention of colour muted with the softness of the medium, the two dimensional stagnation of dance and twirls and anticpated movement frozen and pressed, that indescribable moment before the moving and the moved, the fluff and bounce of the lace skirts and the strength and tenderness of the timber stripped floor. something like a bleed. i think, that's you and me.