An English In Kentucky


















October 4th 2010    Tim Candler

    There is agreement from me that an infinity of circles, each one touching at points, would produce lines as straight as ever they might need to be.  I would determine my territory in terms of one large circle, and an infinite number of increasingly smaller circles.

     In dispute we would get out the electronic microscope and with minute pointers gesture roughly in the direction of the smallest circles, arguing second by second, never even noticing that as we debated each tiny circle was indeed becoming larger.

    But never so large as to permit either one of us to fit one more circle into the multitude of circles.   Instead we could enter the space between the circles, and there we would get lost in an understanding of being that can only be endured through the rudders of mathematics.

     This could be a pure place in which to sail.   And I bet you it is a random place, because it is the place where you and I actually touch each other.

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