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To me you were neither arithmetic of love, simple and pure, nor algebra of feelings, moved by factors such as boredom, convenience or fear elements of the granitic equations. Family and Future. In a life which is a continuous division by zero dominated by transforms and curves gone mad over Cartesian axes, behind which complicated functions - better to say fictions - raise themselves as corrupt solvers of every decision to be had.
Only escaping from these equations from conceited postulates from Pythagorean infallibility from the minus sign dictatorship from words, periodic figures from fear, logarithms from illusion, complex numbers
It is going back to the abacus that maybe I will have you but now you are for me a beautiful theorem that only I am able to demonstrate letting the chalk run on a slate blackboard. A columnade of numbers and operations which spits in the face of the pretentious exact science all the explosive beauty of the Slavic mathematics.
