Safari in Pangaea

And here we come to a dividing line, a place where within are contained the constituent elements of each party otherwise separate. Its sutures are of a distinct and peculiar quality. (a nod) It is there, here, within that the rift becomes visible and yet is closed. The plate tectonics of the event represented by the thread, the aforementioned sutures, are likely the cause of earthquakes in china but leave humanity and the cosmos otherwise unperturbed. Halves, pieces. The portions are not of themselves a singularity. They are acutely aware of the nature of separation--the ache and the (yes I said it) desire wrapped up in a conjoinment, completion.
Pangaea. The continents shift and tie themselves together with pieces of yarn, pieces of thread and maybe (if it's laying around) a few vagrant lengths of yellow crosstitch floss into a patchwork sort of like that one one lady did in that one movie that Michel Gondry directed, yes. They get together and call themselves Pangaea. They capitalize it because of formality. They want to be formal.

"Proximity affords not one the ability to begrudge another no less proximal than the thumb and no less proximal than one's own indexical fingers." A character eeks into the narrative and, after a grotesque display of jazz hands, fades into the atmosphere surrounding Pangaea.

Dinosaurs roamed.
Then they all drifted apart again in the constant cycle of death and rebirth--expressed here by rocks and molten ore. A Buddha glanced to his left and right, muttering something under his breath. When questioned by the bodhisattva changing a lightbulb, the being stated frankly: "Told you so."
Of course, they all thought. Someone imagined repurposing the crosstitch floss for a mobile of constructionn paper animals and playing cards.