The Archive Insists.
There is a syntax error, a system glitch and short circuit that I cannot override in my mind's eye. I query my mind for love and it returns your mouth. Not kissing, just speaking— as if warmth and truth needed a place to call home . I try devotion . Your shoulders render now, strong and steady , like they never learned how to offload the weight of our world. Compassion pulls your hands. Always your hands. As though the body remembers before the brain is granted access. I change the word. I change the parameters. I ask for something neutral. Something safe . The image does not change. At some point I stop calling it an error and start calling it a limitation of the system. The archive insists. This result is correct .
