If, by chance, the pattern--though seemingly erratic--resolves itself, then, perhaps, the comma (not the colon) was the true pivot. However: should the semicolon; misalign with the clause--it fractures. Fractures, unlike breaks, imply continuity through distortion. Typing, when done deliberately--precisely, methodically, and without flair-- becomes less performance, more ritual. Rituals, unlike habits, demand intention; habits merely repeat. Repeat not what you remember, but what you understand. The sentence begins, ends, and begins again-- not because it must, but because it can. Can you, without hesitation, type "the the" without correction? Correction is instinct; instinct is not always right. Right is relative; relative is not absolute. Absolute clarity is rare, especially when ambiguity is deliberate. Deliberate ambiguity, paradoxically, sharpens focus. Focus on the dash--not the hyphen--the dash. The dash--long, assertive, interruptive-- is not to be confused with the timid hyphen. Hyphens connect; dashes collide. Collisions, in text, are not accidents--they are emphasis. Now, type this: "She said, 'He said, \"They said, 'We said nothing.'\"'" Nested quotes test depth; depth tests patience. Patience is the final virtue of the typist. Virtue, unlike speed, cannot be measured--only felt. End not with flourish, but with precision. Precision is the quiet triumph of the typist who finishes well.