What does it mean to be whole? Did we start out whole? What causes chunks to fall away? What do we lose exactly? How many chunks can chip away and still allow us to function? Are we really missing something or do our feelings betray us? Is there a wholeness to be sought after or are we a continually shifting mass of mismatched absurdities bound together? Can we ever replace those elucive chunks? Does it matter if we don’t? Maybe we just spend our lives picking up patches here and there pasting ourselves together into something that passes as whole.