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When I was twenty I dreamt that underneath a nearby McDonalds, underground, was a school where the employees read books full of mathematics diagrams, finite state machines, mobius strips and such.

While I still can be a competent tutor mathematics has lost its fascination for me I am afraid. And yet now and again I yearn for crisp and formal answers, content is not necessary, just as long as there is that objectivity, like a language in a higher kind of dream, that completely makes sense and answers our question until we are awake again, and begin forgetting.

I lack and long for this objectivity in a very general sense actually. I find myself at times as a vertex with no edges on the great social network graph of existence, then branching out connections, then cutting them again, endlessly.

Galileo, your book is lost to me!