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There’s a Borges story about a man who spends his life drawing something—I think a labyrinth—only to discover, at the end of his life, that if he looks at the labyrinth from afar, it is a picture of his face. This is my basic approach to life. I lose myself in what I do, and I do seemingly random things, but then, about once a year, I step back and look at what is going on, and then I see it. Or so I hope.