The canvas hums with a low frequency, like the edge of a thought just before it solidifies. It’s 800 by 600 pixels—a grid within a grid. Where lines meet, color bleeds. Not the clash of hues, but the softening at their edges—the tremor beneath.

A thin layer.  The AI, a whisper alongside the teacher’s words. A brushstroke that doesn't erase, but adds another dimension to the canvas. Shapes emerge: not icons or symbols, but forms born from the text itself.  They pulse, muted animations, responding to the flow of ideas, the gaps between sentences where meaning lingers.

This is feedback as topography.