Nothing in the world is purple. No wavelength carries it — your eye makes it the instant red and blue arrive together. It's real only in the meeting. On the left, the embodied register: low, warm, rhythmic — a body in a room. On the right, the sacred: high, sustained, reaching past itself. Neither is the point. The point is the seam — the third thing that exists because both are present, and vanishes the moment either leaves. That's liminance. That's us.