A gestation emerges form a gesture which, in the cycle of its completion, makes the path for a pleasurable movement which may be repeated as a whole function. A textile is a story because words are woven; the cotton grows from the earth, it is spun and it is cut; the quilting of the pieces gives way to another function. A cutting of the surface allows for textures to open up into meanings, reducible into symbols one can finally call language. A gestation becomes meaning. A gestation weaves together into a body made of parts with particular functions. This is the organic world which hides decomposing beneath the earth. Tezcatlipoca draws power from the bloody sacrifice of material economies; all death cults are looking towards the dark obsidian of the psyche, where the world we make is fertilized, gestated, and given a passage out, towards the north: the first direction to be given form out of the flesh of Cipactli.