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Imagine this cracking pattern as a fissuring pattern with many parts formed rather than one part broken. The whole is a perfect balance of chaos and order.
As a child in Aylmer Quebec, my friends and I would play around a stream bed in an undeveloped part of town. In the spring it would be raging with water from melted snow and in the summer a long dried clay bed. The cracked clay lining the stream bed seemed to make a beckoning road leading somewhere to something.
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