The Pilot Episode of the Resonant Hole series "What is a Hole?". Glass groundhogs cast no shadows. They shatter in thorny burrows before winter's pallid light can freeze in the air. It is therefore our singers and dancers who herald spring. Our sentimental specialists, our professional perverts. They engorge us, dilate us, milk us, and fill us. They confound our feeble senses with their stupid questions. They are experts at crafting stupid questions. "What is a hole?" is a stupid question. It ought to be "what is in the hole?" Debutantes impaled on their own dunce caps. Milkshakes made with quicksand. And more holes. Holes in holes in holes in holes in holes. Drink from our well and numb yourself to one thousand cold, dark months. In the words of Juuls Trakker, "To shiver is to dance to the strains of your vitals." Dance. Thaw. Then freeze again.
