Symmetry is a closed system, unlike the wave or time. What begins also ends, clearly and firmly, as it began. All creatures of this earth possess one of two kinds of symmetry. Radially symmetrical beings can be sliced across their length at an infinite number of points while maintaining a perfectly equal division. Humans are bilaterally symmetrical, meaning we cut one way: down the middle. A scissoring. Some philosophers believe our inner essence is symmetry waiting to happen, that we are halfway whole. The system inside of us, aphysical in nature, can never be measured. But you know when it’s whole, don’t you. You have a pretty fucking good idea when that part of you inside suddenly doubles. Becomes an even number. And then again when it’s trimmed away. Toward the odd. We drift apart, try to grow again. A starfish regenerates its missing arms like this. It must—its entire concept of the universe is plugged into a base-5 system.