It's difficult to avoid a message in cheesy artwork. Makers of art who are effective know that the appreciation of their message elicits some of their admirers to say that some things cannot be unseen.
Not all admirers of artists know that they are. Receiving a message that commandeers my thoughts and tells me to shut up and think reminds me of a warning against getting too steeped in thought. A dozen pairs of eyes looking at me, ready to defend each other but showing their individuality, does lead me to think I aught to take action; but the first action that comes to mind is to change the picture. The eyes are not looking at me with accusation, but the suggestion is clear that my time is largely wasted thinking about viruses and school; which equally applies to my goal of having a home to be proud of. I'm not quite sure how it happened that I ended up thinking about parentage simultaneously with attempting to show myself as a specimen content to have his piece of Suburbia to himself, but there was something in the air, which got a lot of people talking about where it comes from, and what's in it.
I am in it. Looking at the beginning, we hear of chickens and eggs, but drawing a picture starts with the first dot. Which gives me a sense of vertigo for one named Dot who threw herself from the nineteenth floor some time before I added my voice in protest against an imperfect environment. Imagining myself in deep space is no problem. But then we must look at a speck. Besides drawing me into impersonal history, I do know that both of us know what to call what makes up a screen. Asking a chicken to look after eggs, is a way to describe a common matter of theory. It won't be interesting to a casual reader: we are merely adding a cumulative translation coordinate to the edge definition.
Trying to get everything perfect, we find ourselves trying to depict a tree; which gets us thinking about chords that are off-key; and which takes us back to thoughts that are a waste of time. It's not a waste of time to want to have something attractive to show, but starting off with the thought that getting rid of straight lines is a top priority, we do find ourselves spiralling, and thinking about medicine.
Code can be nice, but it is not quite the same as a mathematical nicety. As to those who didn't think the rule of three and encryption came from different planets, being told to use special words for different areas of an app window is likely to have gotten them to withdraw with complaints of a lack of interest in mental arithmetic in others.
To those dozen faces I therefore say, my progress is always too slow. If anything can be 'too little, too late,' that applies to all my movements. But I'm microsaving my efforts, and trying to remember that the Vatican wasn't built in a day.
That's just far too cheesy, isn't it?
Well, my heart's in the Highlands; we can only get there one step at a time.