I picture my attention as two displaced origins that insist every gesture align through their private vanishing points. Rays sweep across a reserved field and must thread their assigned epipole before crossing the page; a rotated superellipse withholds the centre, forcing each passage to skim its edge. Orientation becomes timbre—families of direction speak in distinct inks—and the drawing resolves as a sparse stereo correspondence, where the self is inferred from what refuses to coincide.