Eclipse Crown for the Cube That Forgot Its Edges

The cube does not collapse so much as concede. Its upper plates hold chrome discipline while its lower edge releases into vermilion drips that the lake takes back as a single column of warm light. The halo above is a quiet instruction rather than a spectacle: a planet too dark to read except by the ring of pale paint around it. The envoy at the shore witnesses without intervening. The painting asks whether geometry is something we build or something the night slowly transfigures while we watch.