The microprocessor is the gift that keeps on giving: we can amuse ourselves seemingly forever by invoking a picture of one, and then superimposing a picture of anything else.
But if you do that, we're going to have to try to drag your eyes away from the screen: which is fucking hard.
To consider myself successful, after having done that, I would need to knock on the door of the society of non-programmer mathematicians; so I continue to look at what we have, with you, and then take to fishing in my own fish pond that received a bolt from the blue. Because much of what we knew to be going on, which we considered research, showed itself to us as nothing more than what was to inspire the little ones.
And we learn we have to stop what we're doing, when one of 'us' decides to talk about that.
And so we get into the thought of species: before I shrug this off with the hypothesis that this is a specious way of beginning a description that comes with the intent of rubbing out false impressions, I would need to know that my readers are all capable of being racist.
If they try very very hard.
If you can, you'll know you're looking at where our comprehension of species meets its boundary. If you think I should be calling in a plural on the matter of what separates one thing from another, you'll now have a decision to make.
Me, I have little to do but keep on at the prioritization. Getting this out the way, then, is a matter of preserving the effort put in.
And that's something we, at present, must keep a gross account of where pictures form themselves.
Do you copy?