There’s patterns everywhere, in everything, I’m sure but I don’t actively seek them….they seem to come to me. Literature is full of patterns. Life is full of patterns. That’s how I usually write my essays – to find a pattern and then find meaning and symbolism within it.
I’m somehow comforted by patterns – to know that they exist, repeating themselves over and over. It gives predictability to unpredictability, it’s rhythm smoothing.
I detest the chaotic. I don’t like not knowing about what is happening next. I don’t like not having the option of plotting the day, week or even See the rest of the post →