I am stronger, as a whole, for the two halves of me, fighting all the time. My structure, having to hold together, and contain the orgiastic art, always trying to get out and wreak havoc. And so too, for the havoc, pushing out, until the structure breaks, and like a flock of sheep without a shepherd, the art wanders all around, until the organizer returns to bring it all back together. In this way, the havoc must burst forth with more might in the future, if it hopes to break free, as the organizer grows wiser and stronger, so too must the creative chaos become even more chaotic. Each half trades blows like this, never allowing me to become fully one or the other, but still, I am greater as a growing whole, as a result of their struggle.