well-ordering property

i have a bookshelf. i think it used to represent what i wished i was a few years ago (echoed in a hall hurried though). copies of proust and derrida. it is still sectioned off into partitions, trends that blend into eachother. the spectrum of the things that used to keep me up at night. but the bottom of this bookshelf is growing without bound. calculus, differential equations, abstract math, topology, classical mechanics, electrodynamics, quantum mechanics, gravitation... the weight of these texts start from the base, like a tree. stretch higher and higher. the leaves of my fingers can still all but touch the search of Humanity, but these leaves are one by one falling. they are so light compared to the heaviness of their roots. i was in class last week, the only non-physics class i am taking. we were reading keller. a love story of two youths ending in death. my professor, the dean of graduate studies in the greman department, translator of the new cambridge press of thus spoke zarathustra, was brought to tears by the end of the story. he had to leave the room in order to regain composition so we could discuss the midterm. the great sweeping act of Humanity has lost me in its motion. and so i fake it. or avoid it. build text upon text. but this is where i live. here in admiration of things, uninvolved but trying. expecting.

quiet and bright

i have been displaced.

a wave was once dense but by a sheering, changed its direction, projected itself onto a new observable, and became thin but spacious. can you feel numbers? let me explain. the sun is in my eyes. its like that, the sun. like something soft without any arms one can shake, but still wraps around you like a blanket. eddying about a finger or a neck, spilling over a back. something that is felt without form but with intuition. a small white space, quiet and bright. the center of the universe. but i have been displaced. the only thing that travels faster than light is shadow. and so thinness is what we call dancing on tiptoes. I wrote that in a math book once, dance without hesitation or pause. then you will know Mathematics. it is an uncertain thing to orbit around your center. particularly when your center is so small and soft. such an odd thing. so can you feel it? a number or a certainty? faith hole. you must. the presence of that center or purpose is not unique, Truth is there. Truth is not unique. but so often our orbit is a swelling failed to climax. i am wrapped up in it all. and the act of constructing an assessment is assessment itself. i feel like sand under feet.