As we toured the seemingly endless halls of Chateau Fontainebleu, I thought about how distinct each room in the manor appeared. There were countless styles to admire from the gorgeous Gobelin tapestries to the baroque frescos to Marie Antoinette’s lavish furniture possession; I was overwhelmed and overstimulated. I was trying hard to connect the dots, to make sense of the rise and fall of these great epochs in French history. I felt that each corridor was a synapse between the many neuron chambers–each complete with a world of organelles from lost ages. I couldn’t make sense of it by the units, but the Chateau made sense as a composite. Perhaps this is how we must view our brains. Consciousness isn’t something so much to be understood as it is to be experienced. As we navigate our memories that construct the rooms within our minds, it should not be so much of a priority to rationalize which doors lead where (for surely, you will get lost), but rather, an exercise to clean and maintain what parts of yourself to which you are still able to access.