The wing's design is finished. Good. But it doesn't work, and I can't see why.

In someone else's work I wouldn't notice. Beautiful is beautiful. Here it's different. There's a Japanese idea - if you see a flaw in another, you see it because the flaw lives in you. Fix yours. Then why won't I see it in him next time? Because while you work on yours, he works on his. By the time you meet again, the flaw is gone. There's something true in that.

Everyone says it's good. But it isn't working. I need to feel it. Just to see.

Ten kilograms of plastic and four days later. I set it. I turn the angle. I drop the wing lower. Nothing right.

The lower line and the upper in unison. Both running true. Both saying the same thing. Yes, it's somewhere here.

A man learned to compare. Here I am. Here is Manhattan. Here is the iceberg. What a big iceberg.

For an open room with a high ceiling to feel three times higher, there has to be a normal ceiling next to it. You need contrast. My two lines are twins.