Cher M. Molin,

It has been years I have wanted to write to you. I must introduce myself, and let me be brief. Je connais bien les chansons des cigales en Provence. You inspire me. I have been an unabashed fan since the first hit video. I haven't missed an update ever; I'm in the discord; I have posters and merch; and the best part of my week is watching you discover how your project will require you to grow in a new way—beautifully shot in Provencal scenes of my childhood—and woven strong with joyful and spur of the moment musical creation. You inspire me to play more music, to build more things. I've sought to contribute to your project before in tangible ways, but compared to your following now I can offer little. One of your request forms inquired about a portfolio, or way of viewing prior work. Ben from Applied Science has also shared this as a reason for maintaining his YouTube presence. Martin, I started to build this site, to house my work and represent myself.

Some of my favorite content you've produced over the years are the Music Machine Mondays in the Speelklok Museum. I like these videos because each of machines you showcase are spread across time, complexity, capability, and simple technical design. Each was created for the willful infusion of wonder and rhythm in a moment. Your machine has been created for the same reasons, and yet stands alone in all aforementioned characteristics while additionally innovating in concept and execution. The MMX stands stands out from every marvelous apparatus you so meticulously documented yourself in the Music Machine Mondays. Whereas these historical machines meekly sit on the sidelines piping something to tap your foot to, the MMX takes center stage. It celebrates itself, its blood, its bones, its veins with the sheer magic that is animusic brought to life. From the biological echos of pitcher plants to the comparative range of the machine it simply cannot be compared. These videos are so important because they give the audience a perspective they likely don't have, but would greatly benefit from experiencing to provide context to your work. They effectively lay the ground work for establishing how much of a leap forward your machine is.

Now that I've established the spectacular basis for the Marble Cinematic Universe (MCU), how many nights do you think Hupfeld spent working on the joints for his violin fingers? How many prototype circular bows were discarded? You must treasure these moments Martin, even when you feel like giving up. Especially when you feel like giving up. It is these moments the project's true character is revealed, the raw moments that make this true love. If you were to stop a potential piece of history, a logical piece of history would be delayed or missed entirely. The world, and the human race I believe, would be worse off. Despite this I cannot say you cannot give up. I do not get to make that choice for you, and honestly if you really decided you had to I would support you, but Martin I Believe. I believe there's untold value in the work you document. You have inspired and pushed me without knowing me, and I know you do the same for many others. It is wondrous that your machine has a chance to live, to pump marbles to its summit and dutifully drop and collect them every one. To be designed and iterated on with the cumbersome interfaces we wrap digital endless potential in is distinctly miraculous. Watching you learn to iterate is as close as one can get to high fantasy spell casting. 25 million whispers across mirrors and pools of water as we scry for the next episode in the MCU.

Giving up wouldn't revoke any of the knowledge you've come across, but it shuts out the few remaining lessons you have to learn to complete your mad journey. Martin simply conceiving of this project places you in a very select crowd of people. Acting on it, getting as far as you have, learning the things you have and changing the things you have, sharing it with the world and benefiting from that collaboration. Martin this is something that has only been possible at this current moment in human experience. I wish this alone to season those disappointing, self deprecating moments. I have them too Martin, in all my things. If I could I would touch the legs of the machine. Lay down under it. Look up through its cracks and crevices into its secrets I think I know so well. Martin to create art as you do I wonder if one must already know these things, I hope it is the case but I know I see you create more opportunity for learning than you know what to do with. Continue to constrain when needed, and fully embrace when randomness is the only way to order.

Resterez fort, mon frere,

Tom McNulty