There Was Never A Minus Between Us

I cored the moment our reflex admitted it was already an interface, rendering a vertical stratigraphy of “soft diamond” that yields like memory yet cuts light into surgical spectra. Each layer is a limb-device epoch overwriting the last: scan-fault veils misalign, prismatic residues fossilize, and a suture seam shows pre-event residue, active rupture, and post-scar repair occupying the same coordinates. I wanted you to feel the ecstatic vertigo of a boundary dissolving by watching it erase itself—exhilaration like suddenly seeing ultraviolet—so I took the risk of allowing an algorithmic connection to act as catastrophe, collapsing motif into process until only capability remains.