knowledge is lonely; it can never be seen, felt, or heard

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I laid on the carpeted floor of my friend’s dorm room last night for about an hour.

I laid on the carpeted floor of my friend’s dorm room last night for about an hour. He and I were working on a math problem: for those interested, the problem is as follows: We wanted to pick something that would be elegant and simple enough to think about in the moments in between—walking to class, brushing our teeth, and this time, on a Saturday night (at three in the morning). So I stared at the ceiling, mostly in silence, besides the odd interjection to ask for a clarification in the wording of the question. I tried to picture the different combinations of polynomials changing…

knowledge is lonely; it can never be seen, felt, or heard

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