Some say that the jigzaw of life can be hard to finish sometimes.
But that is only because we are so stubborn that we try to finish a thousand piece jigzaw with three thousand pieces.
I think most of us are really aware of that.
Still, in the middle of everyday life, we sit there with pieces that doesn’t even belong to the same jigzaw, trying to force them together.
Hope is the last thing that leave us.
At the moment I sit here with a nine pieace “Bamse”-jigzaw. “Suitable for one year olds and up”, it says on the pack. I’m sitting here with the final piece in my hand.
Do we really want to finish our jigzaw?
Is this what life is about, or are we perhaps slightly masochistic and just love the fact that we are living a jigzaw that can never get finished?
Maybe, the meaning of life is that we never finish it?
We’ll see if I actually get around to finish it. I’ll let you know in that case.