Something here was meant to be whole. Layers of blue and charcoal build a heavy, patient form, and an angular fracture runs through it, from the top edge almost to the base, along lines the code never paints. It was not broken later. The fracture is there from the first mark, and everything else gathers around it. Along its edges, hundreds of fine fibers reach across, like attempts at repair. None of them comes close to closing it. Eight stitches cross from the outside, pulled tight over the break; one has already given way. Even mended, it would carry the mark. Near the base, where the fracture stops, the blues warm into rust, the color time leaves on things. Higher up, a small rust incision marks one edge of the break. Almost Whole is about what a loss leaves behind: how we build around it, how we try to mend it, and how even the repair becomes part of its shape. Drawn and animated in code. The work draws itself in the code's own order: the pigment gathers, the stitches are pulled across one by one, and the break never closes.