What I need is perspective. The illusion of depth created by a frame, the arrangement of shapes on a flat surface. Perspective is necessary. Otherwise, there are only two dimensions. Otherwise, you live with your face pressed against a wall, everything a massive foreground of details, close-ups, hairs, the fabric of the bedsheet, the molecules of the face. Your own skin like a map, a diagram of futility, crisscrossed by tiny roads leading nowhere. Otherwise, you live in the moment. And that is not where I want to be.