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</p>
<p>
- This is a chronicle of the labors of Sadeep M. Wickramage Don, an engineer
- driven by the same Promethean ambition that inspired the Natural philosophers
- of old.
+ I find myself once more consumed by a singular undertaking—to delineate the
+ deepest mysteries of computation; to wrest from the silicon its most jealously
+ guarded secrets.
</p>
<p>
- My foundation rests upon Mathematics, that most austere and unforgiving
- of disciplines, which taught me early that truth cannot be negotiated. While I
- wield the apparatus of the masses—C#, Java, Python, and the shifting sands
- of JavaScript—to stitch together instruments of my employment, it is with C
- I wrest from the silicon its most jealously guarded secrets.
+ These pages serve as witness to my solitary labor—each banished dependency
+ a victory against decay, every iteration an act of purification. In them, I
+ have measured efficacy without mercy; I have rejected the ceremonial
+ scaffolding that veils the true visage of their grotesque creations.
</p>
<p>
- For more than a decade, I have built the unseen machinery that carries
- mercurial event streams from the digital tempest of Formula 1; the calculus
- that regulates the geometry of sprawling monuments; the architectures of
- CPaaS, where a million thoughts merge in a galvanic stream of consciousness.
+ Do not ask why I persist when easier paths exist. I have seen what festers
+ beneath the promises of abstraction—the bloat, the waste, the corrosive comfort
+ of ignorance. Driven by a Promethean ambition that burns brighter than
+ convenience, I must seek redemption in Nature's parsimony.
</p>
<p>
- This, however, is neither ornamental fable of my career nor shrine to
- industry's vicissitudes. This is a record of experiments wrought under the
- yoke of Nature's parsimony. Pragmatic precision, durability without dogma, and
- security without paranoia are its tenets.
- </p>
-
- <p>
- Do not look for the veneer of professional narrative. I have recorded the
- work—raw and unadorned—for the kindred spirit searching for truth amidst the
- frozen wastes of our own creation.
+ The measurements do not lie. In youthful fervor, I once stitched together
+ soulless fragments of corporate caprice. Whether these chronicles stand as a
+ monument to my deliverance or condemn me to wander the frozen wastes of my
+ own creation, only time will reveal.
</p>
<p>-- {{ site.author }}</p>