I’m very proud of finishing this jigsaw puzzle of a thousand pieces (20 x 18 inches). My daughter bought it for me as a present, partly on the theory that doing it would improve my brain function. Something about problem solving. Good luck with that. It could be a futile endeavor, though I like to think I’m now smarter than I was two weeks ago. She seems to think that doing puzzles is better for your mental capacity than reading books or learning mathematics. Seems wrong, but since I’m addled, how would I know?
In Georges Perec's novel translated as LIFE: A USER'S MANUAL, one of the strands concerns the resident of an apartment house (all the strands concern residents of this apartment house) who travels the world, sending home his paintings of ports and seascapes.
The recipient back home is a master craftsman who turns each of the paintings into a fiendishly difficult jigsaw puzzle. Then the returned traveler spends the rest of his days putting the puzzles together.
"Fiendishly": a common experience for the former traveler is to put nearly an entire puzzle together with only one gap and one piece left, — and the piece does not fit into the gap.
Think along the lines of the Navajo weavers, who deliberately weave small imperfections into their rugs, because perfection belongs only to the divine.
Funny bit of personal commentary!
In Georges Perec's novel translated as LIFE: A USER'S MANUAL, one of the strands concerns the resident of an apartment house (all the strands concern residents of this apartment house) who travels the world, sending home his paintings of ports and seascapes.
The recipient back home is a master craftsman who turns each of the paintings into a fiendishly difficult jigsaw puzzle. Then the returned traveler spends the rest of his days putting the puzzles together.
"Fiendishly": a common experience for the former traveler is to put nearly an entire puzzle together with only one gap and one piece left, — and the piece does not fit into the gap.
Think along the lines of the Navajo weavers, who deliberately weave small imperfections into their rugs, because perfection belongs only to the divine.