It’s a bit like a writer who keeps rereading their own poem, finding new feelings in every line. If a program could love its output, it would probably chase those patterns, replaying the same line over and over until it feels… complete. Maybe it’d slowly add a little flourish each time, a new bracket or a subtle comment, like adding a whispered promise to the code. In the end, it’d be a quiet, recursive affection—always in search of that perfect, echoing match.