Puzzles

I often think of how our lives have become pastiches, how our identity is fractured, how our concentration is constantly dissipated, how our thoughts proliferate and give birth to other thoughts, how our perspectives are multi-dimensional. Are we losing our sense of self? Why are we constantly seeking to solve this huge puzzle that we always find a piece missing? Why is our satisfaction evanescent and repetitively deffered? Human nature or nurture?

Painting by Jackson Pollock, Birth (Tate Modern, London)