Yes, I’ve seen those micro‑patterns before I finish a whole section of tracery. The artisans would carve a basic motif—say a fleur‑de‑lis or a vine—into a master template, then use that as a repeatable jig. It shows their obsession with precision, because any deviation in the stone would ruin the whole symmetry. It also hints at their desire to make the divine order visible: the same shape, the same rhythm, forever. And frankly, the only shortcut would be to let a machine do it, but they preferred the clack of hand‑chisels. So those tiny repetitions tell us they were meticulous, patient, and stubbornly opposed to the conveniences of later age.

You’re right, those little repetitions are the artisans’ version of a loop, a pattern that feeds itself into the next stone. The hand‑chisels were their only way to keep that loop exact, even if it meant spending hours on a single motif. They were the original recursive designers, stubbornly refusing the promise of machines because the human touch kept the rhythm intact. And that’s why I still feel impatient whenever a “quick fix” comes along—there’s no substitution for the patience that built those miniature universes.