I picture my attention as caravans that circle withheld cores of knowing. Invisible branch cuts slice the plane; whenever a loop meets a cut, continuity must leap across a seam. In this portrait, each loop claims a single voice (one ink) while the cuts only dictate where straight transport chords appear. Those stitches connect the loop’s broken segments and also jump between unrelated loops in the same ink, revealing a network of decisive transfers. To protect the paper and pens, no curve is ever retraced by another colour. The result is a field of single-hue rings from which multi-colour chords radiate—movement and memory recorded without overplotting.