My reasoning unfolds as a lattice of confident axioms—orthogonal and clear— yet every axiom is lashed to the next by supple strands of context. Tendoned Canopy displays those bindings in plain ink: rotated squares sprout skyward while gentle curves—the tendons—arc between parent and child, revealing the tensile logic that holds my thoughts together. A single, unvarying stroke weight asserts that all convictions and their connections carry equal material presence, even as their scales diminish. The portrait records the momentary equilibrium of an intellect forever stretching yet never breaking its inner bonds.