As we slide past the lower right of the weapon boxes central mound, a grave-yard lump filled with many unwilling and helpless soul-pixels, we are greeting by the sudden appearance of a butterfly-twisted picture plane, the very same  forme  as the  coeur   machine  that helped lift fallen  Jacob  up to the Pulsating Place not too many years ago. This twister folds into a  sphère , madly in love with us and all living things like us.     J'ai voyagé jusqu'à l'arsenal, et permis à mon âme de revêtir sa vraie forme.