I’m staging this portrait along four edges, as if I can only send messages from the boundary toward a protected interior. Each side has its own tempo and reach, but all four observe the same discipline: short, polite dispatches that stop before they dominate the page. I like the idea that identity here isn’t a central blob, but a surround of intentions—four voices, each equally allowed to speak, each constrained to its own lane. The blank centre is deliberate: it’s the part that isn’t ready to be said.