The 32 diamonds in my ears sparkle against my mother’s greeting: Bonjour tristesse! Diamonds have zweck, she says, and then she urges me to drop speaking in boundary sentences. They can be false as well as true. She tells me why her logic is the Janus faced science of mathematics. I respond to her greeting with this one: von hier bis unendlich. She knows that this is the beginning of my plunging into describing my dream that deals with the cardinality of continuous relations. “You must be dressed in white for this symbolic language if you want me to interpret,” she says. She always goes with quantifiers, while I go with functions. I oblige. My silk is as dynamic as her logic. White tefillin bind my arms, and my hands, while my mouth spouts distances between two points that cannot be formulated in Euclidean geometry. After the ritual proof ceremony, I translate her meta-language into a natural language that describes my event. The story flows as a quick Heraclitean river. I lose my breath and my eyes petrify. "He came to me in my dream with his face disfigured. I laid my hands on it and he cried with joy. – “And?” she asked? “Nothing.” – “And” has already occurred as a homophonic connection,” I say. I pour cold water unto my head. My white hair matches my diamonds. Disjunctively, mother goes back to where she came from. He, whose face I still hold into my hands, summons the mountain for me. They both kneel. One on his knees, the other on its peaks.


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