Puzzles intrigue me. You have to figure out where the pieces fit, you have to take notice of the shapes and sizes of them and you need to be aware of when and how you position them.
There is a feeling of sensation when you finish one, and I have always cherished that. I used to sit at home as a child, fitting jigsaw pieces together while father and mother yelled at each other from the room next doors. I would always feel a tingling sort of joy when a piece found it’s way into the pattern. When a problem appeares you have to reasess the situation, find other ways. It’s fascinating how so many parts, so many componets can fit together so perfectly to show the real image, the entire picture, so to speak.
In school I would finish puzzle after puzzle, always wanting more. It helped me concentrate and relax, and when mother passed away it helped me mourn. Oh, mother. She was a real angel, seeing the greatness in me, my talents in maths and puzzling. I loved her with all my heart. But father was the opposite of that. He despised me and mother, he hit us from time to time, and when mother died the drinking got worse. I have never told anyone, but i know that he killed mother. It must have been him.
But eventually, he would also pass away of course. No great suprise, really.
A rope doesn’t take easy on a man’s neck.
Through high school my interest for puzzles increased, and soon I would have solved some of the hardest ones. In college I had solved almost every know puzzle out there, and I felt empty. I tried making my own once, but that never worked. I had already solved them then, if you know what I mean.
But I have solved a new one now, it lays right before my eyes. And I must say that I’m so proud of myself for being able to solve it. There was so many pieces, big and small, but I did it. It looks so fascinating.
The human body is really complex, isn’t it?