I had ten minutes before I would probably be late for the bus. I drew a hand, and its reachout aspect suggested an arm, so the arm ended up reaching for a moon, but we’ve all been there with that one, so do a series of spiraling spheres engulfing and whooshing through the outstretchedness, which needs more than an arm, so becomes a guy-or-not with spiked hair, communing with Infinity, and what original thing might we say about humankind’s communion with Infinity? Make it ten words or less, Bud. You have a bus to catch.