There are big ones and there are small ones. They come in different quantities and they are colorful or just boring. All together, they make a nice pattern, a beautiful picture. Nobody can see this overall, because everyone is just a small part of it. No one sees the big beautiful picture from above and is able to see what it looks like conjoined.
Each part has interfaces. There are different types of interfaces. Each part individually. It’s a big nice puzzle and it’s made up of millions, even billions of parts. I empty the box and the pieces all fall on the table. There was only this one puzzle, it’s all I have.
I look at the parts and somehow, they all look the same, although each part is individual and very special. Where do you start? I try to find the edge parts first to get a better picture of the whole extent. Bit by bit I can put them together and get a kind of picture frame. The inner life is a smorgasbord of parts. They are piled up in the middle. I run my hand over it and smooth the pile a bit. There are just too many parts.
Slowly, I start to try out the parts. I try to puzzle them together and I am always happy when something fits. The parts are then well ordered and in balance.
Under this mountain of parts, a certain part always strikes me particularly hard. It is a notably beautiful part with many interfaces and many colorful colors and facets. It looks so bright, happy and balanced, yet it seems dark and lonely. It is striking and attractive.
This piece lies in the middle of this big multicolored bunch and really wants nothing more than to finally arrive where it belongs. Exactly where its place is intended.