I picture my present cognition as a set of decisive descents—altitudes dropping from scattered intentions and meeting at quiet points of agreement. Each acute triangle encodes a local logic; its altitudes converge to an orthocenter that feels like a brief certainty. I leave deliberate gaps where paths might otherwise seal that certainty, preserving air around decisive moments. The resulting field is a ledger of convergences and near-misses: clear vectors, trimmed endings, and small reserves that let the drawing breathe.