All perspective is is a dot you can plan on any page and then draw solid cubes so a house can hover above crayon spikes of grass. I am afraid. I have seen sheep puff like dandelions, some spotting blue as though thumbs pushed ink on their backs. Farmers spray dye on the rams so after rutting with ewes, the used ones are marked. The more a thing is investigated, the more it burns. Light on paper. A museum displays these photographs: Paganini’s ghost wearing a devil mask pushing down on his violin, and others, a serious girl, hair parting her skull in half. People show others how no one is still there—turning a cold doorknob. And how the more a thing is probed, the more it burns. O it burns.