Autonomous papers, which carry typed messages but are themselves, in the substance of their crushed woody bodies, actually slow vegetal echoes of lost wind-words (in the paleo-periods of earthly life, the wind was a living thing, which reproduced quickly, and spoke with a roar nowadays only known dimly as the whisper of the west wind in children's stories), pass from typists under hire at frame left to a conveyer belt crossing the frame diagonally, on their way to distant coded electrification and subsequent disposal. Wind in the paper, wind on the paper. the latter came from breath transmitted through the telephone; listening operators wrote down what they heard, accepted the message as pre-paid, and placed it onto the silent cousin, paper, which I have to tell you is chemically receptive to the graphite or ink markings because of this ancient heritage.