At some point, during one of the scraps of time I had this last year, I cut the crook of an arm in the wrong place. I wasn't sure I could salvage it at all, and going forward was an act of unsupported faith. High figurative in a subtractive game is weird without numbers to back your eye and hammer. I forced myself forward without commitment, cutting none the less, seeing no alternative. I think I'll be OK. Maybe. I hope to show a picture tomorrow.