Upon the stones, between the cracks, rippling textures cross and weave upon a lacing grid. Forms. Uncuttable, indivisible. Driven to shuffle about in cubic perfection. Infinity has a shape. One impossible to construct by human hands and only dreamt up by human minds.
Infinity has the shape of a field.
 
Based on all the past, recent illustrations, it was only a matter of time that I would touch upon this world’s creative structure. It’s difficult to say what discipline this encapsulates. Perhaps ontology. But whatever it is, I’m obsessed with it and likely always will be.