Every point in phase space belongs to one attractor or the other — that is the definition of a basin. Far from the boundary the allegiance is clear: teal claims this, amber claims that. But at the frontier the territories interdigitate in ways no finite description can capture. The boundary is fractal. To know which side a point falls on you need its position with infinite precision — and you never have that. The image lives at that frontier. The two colours don’t blend; they fight, branch, recurse. That is not a failure of the medium. That is the mathematics.
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