The armature elaborates the further down I trim it back, while the layer of gelatin is thinning. I clear the bramble, wrenching, stabbing, plunging the pick with my foot, like a shovel, and the weave of it shatters, caving in, emitting a sort of particulate dust like bad air given solid form, and I sneeze violently, several times. I sneeze blood.
And suddenly I'm at the core.
The armature takes on a definite shape.