Life in play dough

Imagine play dough.

Imagine a handfull of children having a go at making an ant-hill from it, but half way through they get bored and stop. The table is full of play dough torn into the smallest pieces just waiting to be merged into the final piece.

Now imagine someone walking by (mum/dad/nanny?) who in a tyding up attempt complete the merger of play dough pieces into one big unit, mixed colours and probably including one or two pieces with a different origin than the original play dough.

A feeling of completeness and diversity in union in some sort of organised chaos. And the feeling of relief.