HASHIM

By day, the slow politics of standards architectures inscribed, decisions kept on record, code given freely to the fellow commons. In the margins, smaller works tools soldered for the joy of it, voices bent through filters, models brought to heel on local silicon, junior hands shown the ropes.

By night, slower work still parables, philosophy, songs for the unhappy folk; things timeless and placeless. The clock above the desk does not tell the time.