I used to love building things up, fixing, creating. Might be one of the reasons i ended up in my program. It’s my passion. Creating words from random letters, turning broken pieces into a whole, making an art from dusty crayons, turning leftovers into another piece. I love it. I love the idea of having a whole thing, there’s no excess and absolutely no dearth. Like it’s complete. You never want to look for another. But isn’t it so ironic to find out that you love this thing so much that you forget to fathom yourself?