Pictures by a friend : Emil Przepiorski The wall has been like this since the Warsaw Uprising in 1944. German bullet marks.
“To live is to pass from one space to another, while doing your very best not to bump yourself. Space is a doubt” / “Vivre, c’est passer d’un espace à un autre, en essayant le plus possible de ne pas se cogner. L’espace est un doute.“
«My apologies to chance for calling it necessity. My apologies to necessity in case I’m mistaken. May happiness not be angry if I take it for my own. May the dead forgive me that their memory’s but a flicker. My apologies to time for the multiplicity of the world overlooked each second. My apologies to an old love for treating the new one as the first. Forgive me far-off wars for taking my flowers home. Forgive me open wounds for pricking my finger. My apologies for the minuet record, to those calling out from the abyss. My apologies to those in railway stations for sleeping comfortably at five in the morning. Pardon me hounded hope for laughing sometimes. Pardon me deserts for not rushing in with a spoonful of water. And you O hawk, the same bird for years in the same cage, forever still and staring at the same spot, absolve me even if you happened to be stuffed. My apologies to the tree felled for four table legs. My apologies to large questions for small answers. Truth, do not pay me too much attention. Solemnity, be magnanimous to me. Endure, O mystery of being that I might pull threads from your veil.
Soul, don’t blame me that I’ve got you so seldom. My apologies to everything that I can’t be everywhere. My apologies to all for not knowing how to be every man and woman. I know that as long as I live nothing can excuse me, because I myself am my own obstacle. Do not hold it against me, O speech, that I borrow weighty words, and then labor to make them light.»
MAX
Euclid crashed. I lost
all my data, my hardware.
SOL
Your mainframe?
MAX
Burnt...
SOL
What happened?
MAX
I don't know, first I got
these horrible picks. Then
Euclid spits out some
numbers. Never saw anything
like it and then it fries.
The whole machine just
crashed.
SOL
You have a printout?
MAX
Of?
SOL
The picks, the number?
MAX
I threw it out.
SOL
What was the number it
spit out?
MAX
I don't know, just a long
string of digits.
SOL
How many?
MAX
I don't know.
SOL
(Intense)
What was it, a
hundred and fifty, a
thousand, two hundred
sixteen!? How many?
MAX
I don't know. Probably
around two hundred.
(Wondering)
Why?
SOL
(Beat)...
I dealt with
some bugs back in my Pi days.
I was wondering if it was
similar to one I ran into.
Hold on, you have to slow
down. You're losing it, you
have to take a breath. Listen
to yourself. You're connecting
a computer bug I had, a
computer bug you might have
had, and some religious
hogwash. If you want to find
the number two sixteen in the
world, you'll be able to pull
it out of anywhere. Two
hundred and sixteen steps
from your street comer to
your front door. Two hundred
and sixteen seconds you spend
riding on the elevator. When
your mind becomes obsessed
with anything, it will filter
everything else out and find
examples of that thing
everywhere. Three hundred and
twenty, four hundred and
fifty, twenty-three.
Whatever! You've chosen two
sixteen and you'll find it
everywhere in nature. But
Max, as soon as you discard
scientific rigor, you are no
longer a mathematician. You
become a numerologist. What
you need to do is take a
break from your research. You
need it. You deserve it
Here's a hundred dollars, I
want you to take it. If ,you
won't take it, borrow it.
Either way, take a break.
Spend it however you like as
long as it falls in the
category of vacation. Real
world stuff, okay. No math.
Sfuma il turchino in un azzurro tutto stelle. lo siedo alla finestra e guardo. Guardo e ascolto; però che in questo è tutta la mia forza: guardare ed ascoltare.
“On s’apprivoise à toute étrangeté par l’usage et le temps ; mais plus je me hante et me connais, plus ma difformité m’étonne, moins je m’entends en moi.” Montaigne
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