On a desolate street there is a beggar. Day after day he asks passersby not for money, but for any flat objects they may have, for this man has a masterpiece lying inside of his head he wishes to express yet lacks the paints or materials to create it. His basket starts empty but slowly fills with these collected scraps. Each day, he pieces together everything in his basket hoping one day he will have enough for his masterpiece. Because he has so little, he feels the need to use all the resources generously given to him. So he presses on, constituting his collage until one day, it strikes his heart greatly. What once was a barren sidewalk was now filled with the art he had dreamed of creating for so long. Curiously enough, it only bore a resemblance to his original vision, yet he knew that this was the closest he could ever come to realizing it. Reflecting upon his creation, the man sighed. For even though he had persevered and created something great, his original vision had been compromised, the desire to use all he had available overshadowed his true purpose. The man then felt lost, the realization that this pinnacle of creation dissatisfied him was impossible to handle, and he lived out the rest of his days with only a malaise in the wake of his disappointing masterpiece.
On a desolate street there is a beggar. In much the same way as the first man, he spent his days gathering his puzzle pieces from passersby and putting them together in hopes of expressing the masterpiece true to his soul. Day after day, he brings forth a beautiful collage of scraps, yet his masterpiece eludes him. One day, as he was gathering up his pieces and returning them to his basket, he was struck with a realization. With only 3 puzzle pieces, arranged perfectly, he was able to perfectly express his original vision. What a joyous day, his arduous mission had finally resulted in that which he truly desired. Only with his discerning eye, uninterrupted by arbitrary value, was he able to truly express himself. And thus he lived out his days knowing that he had brought about a small pocket of perfection in the barren world around him.
On a desolate street there is a beggar. In much the same way as these first two men, he labors day after day collecting his puzzle pieces and assembling them into various arrangements. However, the man had only the raw desire to create, and with no vision in mind, he had only the blind assumption that one day he would be satisfied. Until the very last day of his life, the man was seen arranging puzzle pieces, removing them, working blindfolded, and even asking others for help, yet it was all clearly in vain. For he had never realized that fulfilling an abstract desire is impossible. Without an end in mind to begin with, he was surely destined to a never ending journey.
On a desolate street there is a beggar. Day after day, he begs not for puzzle pieces, but for coins. In his town, the coins that fall into his basket are circles of various metals. The man grows bored of begging and begins to arrange his coins in a symmetric tile formation. His collection grows, and so does his artwork, yet he is always somewhat displeased with what he constructs. He holds a desire for his work to be different, yet cannot quite figure out how; despite this doubt, he continues his peaceful tiling. One day, a foreigner walks down the street and drops in his basket something entirely novel to our dear beggar, a square coin. The beggar quickly looks up and asks the man where he is from, and the foreigner replies with a tale of distant lands and countless train rides. The beggar slumps back against the building wall in disappointment for he had finally realized why his work was displeasing. The aesthetic he desired was not tiled circles after all, but tiled squares which fit perfectly and neatly together. He grew weary, knowing that he could never attain his ideal work, for this foreign land was impossible to reach. So the man lived out the rest of his days, knowing now what he truly desired, yet also the impossibility of achieving it. At times he resented the foreigner for making him aware of his true desires, often he resented his towns decisions regarding the shape of their currency, and sometimes he simply wished he had never received coins in the first place. A tumultuous and resentful life.Â