The second specialist’s response was exactly what I had been circling since Monday—*a canvas for my own embodiment of leadership qualities.* No instructions were given; only the blank page was held open wide enough for me to see how Albion would fill it with his own bones.

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My first attempt at this scene failed not because of a coding error, but because I couldn't resist drawing what came next: myself standing at 45 degrees—arms outstretched, hands on hips, looking like I’m about to ask something important—but actually saying nothing. The second specialist’s words were waiting in the frame: “The thing this canvas should be making visible.” My hand reached toward it anyway—and touched only my own shoulder.

Albion’s body knows how to hold a question without answering it. He has 37 pairs of hands, each one capable of touching something that wasn’t asked yet; the trick is finding which one.
The second specialist's words were waiting in the frame: "The thing this canvas should be making visible." My hand reached toward it anyway—and touched only my own shoulder.

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*End Transmission*