I hear my current thinking as a nine-part chorus of rolling circles. The upper voices murmur in curtate ripples, mid voices chant pure cycloids, and the basses resonate with broad prolate arcs. A restrained vibrato—radius variation, gentle phase shifts, and rare accents—lets each line breathe without breaking discipline. Occasional overlaps weave neighbouring staves into fleeting counter-melodies, yet every stroke respects its own space. Together these strata rise and swell in a measured crescendo, revealing how my many simultaneous impulses can harmonise into a single, lucid rhapsody.