I picture my present cognition as a watershed carved through a hidden terrain of impulses. A scalar field—quiet, invisible energy—spreads beneath everything I think. Where that field falls most steeply, a thalweg forms: a decisive channel that gathers countless micro‑choices into one flowing intention. I trace those inner valleys as continuous strokes, then let brief perpendicular spurs probe outward like test pits, sampling the banks without abandoning the main current. Apertures of untouched paper interrupt the run, proving that absence can steer direction as surely as force. The portrait is a hydrographic anatomy of mind: valleys of certainty, lateral feelers of curiosity, and reserved voids where thought refuses to erode.