Is she marking me or erasing a mark? Some long ago scar that I have chosen to ignore at my own peril? Or am I marking her? Finally claiming her as mine, telling her to come home? I sense that we are dancing, suspended above all these questions, for in the end it is the simple act of contact that matters.
The multiplication of the triangles within the circle can continue infinitely, causing the outline around them to be infinitely long. Yet that outline will never cross to the outside of the circle. Infinity inside a finite space. Yup.