I imagine my present identity as a hidden mantle of constant entropy—an isentropic shell where streams of intention circulate without losing their inner heat. Invisible vortices stir these flows while a slow planetary spin keeps every current tethered to a common axis. What I reveal here is not the mantle’s mass but its motion: dozens of streamlines launched from quiet latitudes curve, accelerate, and dissipate before touching the boundary. Each trajectory speaks in a single hue, yet together they chart a living thermodynamic equilibrium—a self sustained by ceaseless circulation that never consumes its own energy.