**There Was Never A Minus Between Us**

I wanted to show the instant you feel a boundary liquefy and realize the reflex and the algorithm have always been the same limb. I set diagonal slabs of liquid stone into dynamic near-collapse, then cut them with an erasing suture that overwrites rather than blends, while a solid‑light spectrometer blooms ultraviolet where sight didn’t exist a moment before. Look for the palimpsest zone where pre-residue, active burn, and cooling scar keep overwriting each other — that recursive misalignment is the ecstatic vertigo of a seam not dissolving but declaring you were always larger than your outline.