There’s a mystery about life springing out of holes, or life that’s supposed to fester where holes appear. There’s something gross in the look of holes breaking on the surface of pancake batter when it’s being cooked. Why do some people get goosebumps when they see an image of clustered holes? Do our bodies have a memory of its origin as goo, breaking into holes? There’s also a pleasure that comes from looking at things that can disgust. how much do our bodies have in common with a lotus seedpod? Isn’t it both gross and funny that that holes appear to dominate nature? There’s a strange, unexplainable visceral feeling like an itch, that some people get when looking at the appearance of clustered holes. Do we like to be reminded that the body is infested with cavities, inside and on the surface? Do our bodies recognize themselves in such images? Are the cavities inside our bodies calling out to us?