There is an engineered design in art; moments and experiences are calculated towards an aesthetic, logical, moral, and social end. The goal is to achieve temporal unity. He who is marked for death dies; she who is supposed to fall in love loves like never before; he who is heartbroken is pained; she who is cold is unmoved. Whether by elation or despair, things must go as far as the temporal units will permit, and always with surgical precision. Each methodical moment is bound by the last and the next; the waving tide of agony turns only when things have gotten as despairing as they can get. The artist then, must be a simultaneous fusion of a brilliant neurosurgeon and a surreal engineer who designs and forms a triad among the cornered square of love, agony, beauty, and death. There may be agony, love, and death without the beauty; and there may be love, agony, and beauty without any death. There may even be agony, death, and beauty without love. Sometimes there is not even a triad but the full square: love, death, beauty, and agony; all four simultaneously, instantly, or consecutively moving in the direction of the permitted temporal units. But there may not be love, death, and beauty without agony. Agony is compulsory. … It’s all agony.