Life is a mosaic. Our years are made up of tiny, interlocking parts. Move one piece in a mosaic and nothing is exactly what it was before. Change the color, the size, the placement of any one of the pieces and the whole picture changes. Add the smallest piece to any aesthetic whole and the piece alters, if only so slightly. Something once part of the way the composition went together is missing now. Something has profaned its original integrity. Something is out of balance. Something new is to be reckoned with. No matter how fine everything else around the new piece seems yet to be, no matter
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