I read a book. It made me think.
What is a point? I was taught it was a dot in space, a single location, the very basis of geometry. It has no size, no features, only properties that it follows. How simple. And yet I can't even envision this lengthless, widthless, sizeless thing. What is a point? A point is a point.
I rather hated this book, so full of pretentious themes and presumptuous questions. How I ached to abandon it, to close its nonexistent pages (for you see, the book did not even have the redeeming quality of being a book - it was a text file).
What then is a line? A collection of points? But if a point has no size, then how does a line, a string of points, come to have an infinite length? How is the summation of an infinite set of zeros produce infinity? How does everything come forth from nothing? How, how, how? What is a line? A line is a line is a line.
It was exhausting, this funny little text file. Seconds, minutes, whole half-hours would pass as I read on. Sometimes I would note every dragging tick of time and sometimes I would not. How strange a read. How utterly curious.
And a square? What is that? Why it is the union of four intersecting line segments, touching just so. Defined by its right angles and its quadruplet of equal length sides, the rectangle suddenly adds width to its parent line. 2D from 1 from 0. What is a square? A square is a square is a square is a square.
It was, perhaps, the strangest book I have ever read - daring to call its characters arrogant and vain when it, itself, thought to write answers to the fundamental questions of life and death shrouded in clouds of "big words" and "higher vocabulary." Oh how I hated this book.
And so the whole of geometry is built from the feathery wisps of concepts that are at once primitively simple and frighteningly incomprehensible.
I hated this book, this text file, this thing enough to shudder past pages of torture and death and cruelty. I hated it enough to scroll through three hundred and sixty odd pages, squinting at a dizzyingly bright screen in the dark. I hated it enough to write about it in a blog abandoned for over a year.
Is that not beautiful in its own, albeit confusing, mathematical (or is it artistic?) way?
Perhaps I hated Neverness enough to feel a shred of reluctant love for it.