You mean to show yourself sharp and the fog seeps into the glass the very moment the door opens. Neptune, the haze that smudges every outline it touches, pulls crosswise against the threshold where you appear in your chart, and the grinding leaves a murky film. Try to present a clear profile and something dissolves, so the other reads you wrong, or you lose your own thread of who you are. From that grating you learn to wipe the glass: to tell the dream from the real face, to let the sensitivity cross the sill without smearing you whole. The clearness is earned here by rubbing the haze against the frame, day on day, until an outline holds.