Detached then? Come close then: chasing, hounding for the orientation of an abiding attachment—an attachment that is only possible because of the grace of the rendered grasp, no longer greedy for the grip slung about as choice falsified as freedom. If the character attempts to free itself on itself gripped to itself (that it can be anything except itself), the character scatters into nonsense. Stuffed with belly flung fate puffed into abstractions, it forgets the rendering and loses itself. It cannot be itself without the frame.

The miniscule artistry craters sheer smallness. Like a little flower. The frame renders what is within it. Empty for it empties with it. The character in the theatre emptied—render the abider. The interaction framed by a disposition orienting the Character of Image to lowliness with an ascension among their simple structure that is the organ for what is disposed and contained within the theatre—an inheritance that trusts the perspective of the duty to vocation. The objective value of subjective orientation. The frame disposes the idea in the moment. It is the explicit being of destiny. The dearth of it. The abundance of it. Where? The ascension abides among the advocate. Life abundantly living. Good.  

With the subjection to the Image (the living framework), the Character is freed within their frame: the ascendant expressed vocatively, advocated well: the Image delving into Character becoming themselves, sharing themselves because they know each from each—and the difference partakes of the ascension—the bond and oneness of growth.  

Framed by humility, is the Character beyond the frame in the yoke of the Image? Is the moment always? With? Who? (Well-ordered.) Draw the line.