Sedimento

Input.
A picture: the default plate, or one dropped in from anywhere to take its place. Three dials — pixel, vibration, grain — that set the coarseness of the cells, the width of the slow wave, and the strength of the per-cell shiver. Nothing waits for a cursor.

Transformation.
The image is cover-fit and reduced to a coarse monochrome bitmap: a grid of small square cells — two pixels wide by default — each a single grey read from the source's luminance. None of them hold quite still. A slow, coherent wave rolls horizontally through the field while a faster grain jitter shivers each cell independently, and now and then a cell blows to pure black or white, a flicker speck that never lands twice. The whole plate vibrates on its own — a low, involuntary disturbance, a photograph that refuses to settle. A single frame can be captured and taken away.

Note.
Sediment is what settles when a thing is left to rest. Sedimento withholds that rest: the picture is coarsened to grain and then never allowed to lie still, each cell trembling out of step with its neighbours. The captured frame is not a rescue but a record — a still of something that was never still.