Playing

Standard

We are told that we are broken puzzle pieces and the fitting pieces are somewhere in the huge pile in front of us. We are drunk with the possibility that we can match.To match our goals and our fears, our aims and our insecurities.how can we find the missing piece if we are blindfolded?How can we see the edges, the colors if we are colorblind? We grope and we touch the edges, until fingerprints are erased in the process of memorizing our own limits.And they are forcefully pushed into the margins of an unfitting piece.Unwillingly glued in there.To different shapes, different colors. Different textures.Nobody seems to see the discrepancies .They just wonder that the big picture is hideous in its striking diformity….

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