Intercoarse From Within Camera

Apology of mathematics

mistreated. Turned. Unhinged. Frightening. Damn. Yet so basic in human life, mathematics, is increasingly taboo. But despite this apparent, this tendency leads to a contradiction. The economy is it not based on mathematics? Just as the disciplines statistics, many philosophies, and even science itself and, the famous book written in mathematical characters "of Galileo? There would be no progress (and not only scientific), without mathematics. Mathematics
means clear mechanism, linear, where the practice is precisely the theory. There is no way to be wrong, the answer is one and only one. And, in technical terms, moreover, this statement defines a function. But then, why is it so easy to make mistakes in solving any math?
The answer lies in human nature itself. The mathematics is needed, that dwells within us, to establish the boundaries between what is "right" and "wrong." It is not ethical, nor is it moral, as it may seem an apparently moral grounds. Just because nothing, in theory, it is prohibited within the limits of common sense and respect for others' freedom, it is natural to feel the need to create a mental order. At least the pages filled with expressions.
Not surprisingly, those who solves any problem nature of mathematical proof of a sudden feeling of happiness, which grows with the movement of the pen that traces the dark figures on the white paper and that, although short-lived and illusory, is the total void of rationality apparently filled. It does not last more than a few minutes, sometimes hours or even days if the resolution was obtained with a satisfactory performance, such as happens to students. But even so fleeting, it is noteworthy emotion and reasoning. It 'so clear, the math should be part of each of us as humans. A concept that Galileo has summarized this way: "Science is not the task of opening a door to infinity to know, but pose a barrier to the infinite ignorance. "We are nothing but be mean ...
E 'is therefore natural to aspire to something more, if not to perfection, the illusion of being able to reach. Even the most creative minds, more dreamers and me to be allowed, more distracted need to mathematical order. On the contrary, are perhaps the people with these characteristics that character feel more the need, even if it never would be able to admit it. Their curricula mark or sign, formally, weaknesses, gaps and challenges, and the cause of this is clearly their mindset. It is for this reason should make, just like the others, the rational limits.'s just that there are only less conscious, or perhaps prefer not admit this ...
No one is exempt from this unconscious process, no one can escape.
Speaking of math, then you're not going to school discipline. The arithmetic, algebra, geometry ends in themselves. Nor only to their applications in various fields of knowledge. Consider a process rather universal and eternal, as well as the remedy to the greatest human need: the need for rationality.
In mathematics, the mind has to do with its own forms of knowledge, time and space: it's like a cat playing with its tail. (Arthur Schopenhauer)

Breville Baakers Oven Bb200

Absent Absent XXI XXII

Rest. Rest of an unconscious sleep. But heavy, gently rocked by the fog. It seems to have just fallen asleep. After the intermediate stage between being awake and asleep. A half-sleep of the weary, who he has not sat for a moment after a day-eight hours. The sleep of the righteous, some might say. Who has run up in the morning, an hour in an unspecified but still the same, while there is still dark outside in the winter and every step further away from home is torn over the blue dawn in the streets. Whose ends are working from a small car cursing at each roundabout. Who gets queued patiently in pharmacies at rush hour. churches close their doors and pharmacies compliant. Who goes with the beard because the morning has not had time to shave, to return the clothes ironed at home mom. Visit that is repeated every three to four days. Maybe a new skin to soak the smell of home. And even those who travel fast on wide track. Marathon on your arteries, branches on highways, on the work in progress. a transitory situation in which the weight of sleep lies behind the eyelids, behind the eye itself. The sensation of falling backwards, which gives it feels dizzy. But torture is just one of Morpheus, that does not really mean anything to rock soul any middle-class province. It 's just an impression. But the city is asleep. I lowered the shutters of the shops on my eyes, and yet all is silent. In my usual wander past a series of illuminated windows. The long white shutters are open, the white light that I see inside of the room is almost blinding. Not only divides the fog, killing the dark, but also traumatize my eyes. It 's a private clinic, I see empty for the first time in my life. The dark red bar still has some of the latest analysis on spread. The doors are half open, let the mere whim of the last, with white coat, which has pushed to open palm. Actually, there's someone inside. With a cart containing everything you need, a little lady with features Asian moves between the rooms empty so clear and maybe someone else would fear. Seems to repeat with quiet sadness and a series of moves he learned as a child that recites the alphabet. But there is climbing, there is not even in her determination. A child learning the alphabet of another language, which is not the one who speaks to his mom. Continue its work in any case, I think, after my passing. Exactly how did before I saw her by chance, without her noticing me. I carry only a few steps, the purity of the unreal light reflected away, leaving a cross behind me. Now I can tap the dark again with your fingertips. And in the fog, like a creature of His bill, and his sleep that surrounds the sharp corners of the buildings in this city, another figure appears. It 's still smaller and more humble than the last. Walk very slowly, his back arched. But soon disappears from the floor while taking my field of vision. As another character in this dream. I can not see anything but her back with him on the stone age, and the color of her clothes. Black Black like all black this time, broken only dall'arditezza almost burlesque of the fog. It 's still young. I do not doubt his work was the ' climb the scaffolding to catch the sun and sell it to some drug dealer . For convenience. Exactly the same reason now you're backing up this tired city. I stop, I might need a cigarette. After all, is a bit 'who do not smoke one in peace. Needless to say I do not have with me. How feel inferior because the chimneys were always smoking . But perhaps it is not the only thing I miss now? Apparently he's there, he in the midst of this dream that I lies on slight but palpable. I will redo the asphalt when you come back ... shakes me. There is one thing to do, here and now. E 'to join the city in this deep sleep, at least for a while, at least until the fog will allow me.

Proxies That Work In School

I decided to go home. I do not know where, I do not know nemmneno. Persisted in a state of semi-consciousness that alien from the reality around me. It will not be the first time that I find myself wandering the streets who are familiar with the soles of my shoes. And I was almost ashamed to say to myself, even the beat of my heart. A man without a face, although I must say I am from the only vision, flash, I had him, has just entered the yard. I would not even notice him if he had not flown, including the railings of the gate of his house down, a cigarette butt. Still orange, crackling at the beginning of the filter. Straight on the sidewalk, launched in clip between the thumb and forefinger. A gesture repeated over time, probably insignificant to him now. But what struck me somehow ... If for no other reason why the cigarette was likely to finish me in the face. But my reaction was to look for the package or what's left in the pocket of the jacket. I simply turned to the first intersection I found. And it is turning into one of those little streets seemingly all the same, I hear it. Again. Comes as a slap in the face. That as a slap of disrespect or blame has but very little. A certain amount of happiness I suddenly rises from his face. Cheeks, there, where he placed his palms cold. And 'being winter, it has the scent and texture. I can feel, is palpable. I walk alone, no one is around. Only two parallel rows of parked cars and possibly some random beam that pierces the golden mist that seems to wrap around the world, almost in a prayer. I decided to go home, I slip into my car. One of those next to the sidewalk, one as the others. Change direction, and a brighter light makes me instinctively raise his head. It will be a second floor, third perhaps, next to a house covered with ivy and morning glories. A window with nothing to say, covered in length by a white tent clean, almost transparent. The light is refracted by the plot noble, almost imperceptible, the curtain fabric. A light lounge. The light that radiates throughout the room and through the curtain is equal to a lamp that I've seen. In my house? Maybe. I still feel there was already behind those curtains. But I do not remember having at the moment, I want to dig to find it, I can not think of anything but the image itself, captured from my mind. It seems to me the sun. But it also seems to be part of the landscape along with the fog, streetlights, and silence. I got the car. As I have seen so many other people, especially at this time, I lock myself in the cockpit. An act that seems to me noble, and which serves to disconnect for a while, for a moment, the contact with reality, and focus on themselves. I Instead, I will do the opposite. Now, just sit on the front left seat, I feel that the cabin around me. She hugs me. It also embraces the fog around us. E 'thick, full, almost more than the autumn. But what most distinguishes it from previous months is the color. E 'orange, refracts the light of street lamps that meets the surface. Leaning a bit 'towards the windshield I can see from here I can see how shows the profiles of the roof where they lay, light. It brings up this place a new city. Magica.