IF I EVER
“Stop reading signs. Sense them,” he tells me. “Stop reading altogether,” he furthermore says. I’m happy to oblige. I’ve just been on the phone with Georg Cantor and he told me the same thing. I presented Cantor with a line from Shakespeare’s King Lear: “never, never, never, never, never”. Shakespeare knew his Sophocles. Cantor didn’t. Cantor knew set theory, but Tiresias beat him to it. “Infinity is a question of trust,” I imagine Cantor saying. I believe him. There is a reason why Lear said what he said five times. Tiresias prophesized twice as a woman, twice as a man, and once as a sex god for good measure. Blindness is knowledge that can’t tolerate one’s knowing that one sees. Nothing converges with never. Not even when we insist five times. I vacillate between the trivial and the momentous. The Greek choir that numbers the fabulous five: Cantor, Lear, Tiresias, Shakespeare, and Sophocles, urges me on: “forget about the whole thing, but don't forget us.” I nod. Everything is possible in the infinite. No chaste divas are allowed there. Only fractions. And fractals. And fragments.