A claybird, possible target, seen from a closer viewpoint, possible created by changing the optics of an adjustable lens on the camera gun, which never stops grabbing pictures even when the film on its spinning disk magazine inside the camera ammunition chamber has been exposed. The purpose of the camera is to preserve these explodable forms. The images are laid down on after another, then one on top of another, over and over again in multiple exposure, until the film was white with pictures and gathered light. That's the difference between a camera and a weapon... one is extromissive (you know when its out of ammo), the other is intromissive (you're never out of things to shoot, and don't know when you've run out of film) In early years (when the Arabs dominated Greek philosophy, holding all the books), there were great arguments whether the eye sent out a ray (a ray-gun), or sucked in rays from its visible victims (in our somewhat modern perspective here, we can thinking of the balloon orb holding the iris on one side and nerves direct to the brain on the other as a sort of vacuum, a miniature of the very medium of the entire world) Ella never resolved these issues, as she was a technologist, meant to complicate the world. Out of the back of the earth-made bird, bubbles are dropping upwards in a cluster that still has all the detailing of its individual particles visible; if there were sound, even crude sound, you'd hear voices (lassie! Lassie!) that you knew, and maybe you might somehow, as if by accident, think of things you'd hadn't thought of for a while... only to find out later, in conversation, that someone had exactly those same thoughts at that same time, even though they didn't see the bubbles you did.     Through Hive-Maker, Ella Spiralum found work as a photographic medium at the Supernormal Picture Society.