Whatever the mind came across, it broke it down into a hundred pieces. Placed the pieces apart, sat and watched, and reconstrued itself from amongst the partitions. It gradually became seasoned and worldly; it left its cocoon and joined the world. As it marched on, the mind saw itself a misfit for the world, realizing that the partitions and breaks are to blame. To fit, it had to venture back to the days before the split, to the days of the image when everything is tangled and mingled. To the days when there is no will to part, the swatches in patchwork drain in one another, and the categorical boundaries in flags are obliterate through repetition.