I imagine my cognition as a disciplined but invisible quincunx lattice—an armature of tiny, orthogonal gestures. Through that latent order I cut a single, wavering rift: a corridor whose width swells and thins as conviction falters or intensifies. Wherever this corridor passes, one arm of each quincunx is tugged sideways and recorded; beyond it, silence holds. The portrait is therefore a precise breach in a hidden grid: order acknowledged only by the places it is ruptured.