Chaos and order aren’t about what we see—they’re about how we see. A neatly stacked pile eventually topples. A tangled mess, given time, reveals its own quiet logic.
The most structured plan can unravel in seconds. The most chaotic moment can, strangely, feel just right. Maybe order is just a matter of patience, and chaos, a test of perspective.
Look closer. Beyond the clutter, beyond the randomness—there’s always a pattern waiting to be noticed.
There is a certain order to things in Europe. If there is one way for something to be, then there was no other way for it to be.
There is a reasonable predictability to the immediate future. The roads are at right angles. People stop to give way.
Cyclists pedal in seeming unison staying in tracks allotted to them. Canals seem to hold still to give picture perfect photograph on the most amateur photographers camera.
Everything seems to have a place and falls exactly in that place. Even the trees seem to shed it’s leaves with an arty rhythm.
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