Beauty is not found in symmetry or perfection but in the random, wildness of chaos. A geometric pattern can be marveled for it's perfection and desirable repetitive form, but when you stare at the pattern from afar, it loses its details. It becomes a pattern that is indiscernible from the next attempt at perfection. Instead the chaos can be overwhelming, and we, with our human nature want to tame it into some safe pattern we know. But chaos can not be made neat, or orderly, expected, or pleasant. It is beautiful chaos, which alters itself for no one. It is the renegade, the hobo, it is what we fear for we can not understand or hope to make sense of it. It is the exotic, the elusive, the raw. It is art. When we look from afar we can still see the beauty not lost to a pattern, but emphasized by imperfection. The realization that perfection itself is flawed is key, because at our core somethings tells us beauty should not take such effort to contrive. Only the organic is true and the oddness sublime. Wow! I really need to go to bed! Nothing is making sense anymore, and if you could make sense of that...let me know...please! Peace out!!