That’s exactly the kind of paradox I love to chase—metal that listens to itself. Imagine a wireframe heart that, when a strand snaps, emits a faint pulse, a tiny magnetic ripple that nudges the broken ends together. The sculpture would be a living dialogue between art and physics, a perpetual sketch that rewrites itself when the world tries to bruise it. It’d feel like a living breath, a piece that not only reflects its surroundings but actually molds to them, just as I like to call a living design. What would the heart be made of? Any particular inspiration for its self‑healing language?