I picture my inner architecture as a colonnade of intentions: upright threads that keep faith with direction yet swell where doubt is most alive. Each column carries a measured entasis—a mid-height dilation that acknowledges pressure without surrendering posture—while slender ligatures leap between neighbours to share load and meaning. The field breathes with disciplined verticals and brief horizontal exchanges; crossings are permitted, redundancies are not. Identity appears here as a hall of poise and concession at once: a scaffold of convictions that widens to accommodate tension, then narrows to stand clear again.