I grew up in a house where silence was rare, even in the middle of the night I can remember the sound of my dogs barking at the wind or my father snores that seemed to shake the house. I found quiet in the simple things, like lego buildings or puzzle pieces fitting together because no matter how chaotic the house or life got - the pieces always found a way to fit together. Every experience from my earliest days when I struggled to articulate myself because of a speech impediment to trying to understand the words on the pages, I always seemed to find a pattern. They came to life off the pages whenever I read, wrote, or problem solved, even when I started to sketch, draw, paint, collage, I seemed to work systematically, always in a way that a pattern showed through.
I find my peace in patterns, in the way things will always find a way to fit with one another. In moments of disorder, a method to all the madness can be found in how patterns, repetition, and order can be found all around, all you have to do is figure out how.
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