In 1926, the Swiss writer Robert Walser, from a hospital room, jotted down some words about radio: "Yesterday I used a radio receiver for the first time. This was an agreeable way, I found, to be convinced that entertainment is available. You hear something that is far away, and the people producing these audible sounds are speaking, as it were, to everyone." [from Microscripts, trans. Susan Bernofsky]
And so, you send out sounds, signals, words, images in hopes that they catch someone unawares. Fragments, yes. But more than that, at the end. Something larger. A story. Pieced together, ragged, full of gaps, but a story nonetheless. But the catch is, you first have to tell the story to see if it's a story. You won't know until the end. This, for instance, these images. From Aldrich and Lynch, joined together in hopes that a story will come of it. At the beginning, right now, all you've got to go on is instinct. You put your trust in chance.