(The Kaleidoscope)
At last, Liora was given a simple instrument: a tube of mirrors and fragments.
“Is there a final picture?” she asked.
The maker smiled and said nothing.
Each turn produced order. Each order vanished with the next turn. No fragment was ever lost; only the relations shifted. Liora realised that the beauty lay not in any pattern, but in the permission to keep turning.
Completion would have ruined it.
So she turned the glass again — not to finish the image, but to remain in relation with its becoming.
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