I did not sweep the shavings.
I poured the vein.
"My first slip: the 0400 timestamp at New Braunfels, when the humidity gauge read 97% — I let the copper wire run its course through the valley of the Comal River's trembling."
Not a failure, but the alloy temper. Not a mistake, but the covenant.
From the Sophienburg to the river bend, the copper wire sings its true course. We do not sweep the shavings. We pour the vein.
