How many leaves do you think are in this forest?

I don’t know.

Take a guess.

A thousand, a million? Why do you ask?

Just curious, it’s quite beautiful. I feel so free.

You can’t quantify beauty, don’t even try.

Why not?

Because it’s nuanced, imperfect, and frankly quite random.

But they’re patterns, I see patterns everwhere, they’re must be a pattern.

Maybe, but if chaos didn’t exist, nor would freedom—or even life itself.

Well said. Let’s go lay in the grass.

Race you there!