Mathematicians don’t call a beautiful equation a ‘beautiful equation’, they say ‘elegant equation’. “It’s elegant,” they probably say in awe when viewing — excuse the adjective — a beautiful equation. I don’t care see what is elegant, when taking a peek at Julien’s files (as he’s making a new program), because I’m not a mathematician. But I do know that numbers can appear elegant to someone who understands.
Me, I know beautiful things, I know elegant things when I see them as long as they aren’t mathematical equations, even if they don’t make sense or at least when I believe they do.
A lot of things have happened over the past few months, and we’ve kicked back, backtracked, put our running shoes in the cabinet and exchanged them for flipflops, if the term applies to you. I’ve found the time to cry over books (Oscar and the Lady in Pink — written in French; you, too, can cry over it if you find someone to translate the whole book for you), and eat chips, and wake up just in time for lunch.
It rained on our wedding day, our friends offered us a book of quotations about marriage, it says that rain during a wedding day brings good luck, contrary to popular belief. Well, for one, I am not superstitious, as I’d chase a black cat under a ladder if you’d allow me to, and another is that superstitions are corny in my opinion. It didn’t rain a drop in Boracay because everyone gets lucky once in awhile, because luck and superstition aren’t the same thing. Still, while playing “Find the FlipFlop I Buried in the Sand” — a game couples should never play in Boracay, especially newleyweds with complete knowledge that their ring is too big for their fingers — my ring flew and disappeared into the sand. Julien, a cool and calm engineer, methodically ran his fingers over the sand. My tactic was to bawl and dig randomly at the sand while screaming for Jul to find it.
Because he’s a cool and calm engineer, he found it. Now, safely worn in my middle finger, and I shall never clap my hands nor gesticulate wildly when I wear it.
A lot of people talk about the distance between being single and married. Probably mathematicians – they spend so much time calculating. All I can say is that it’s a pleasant feeling to observe instead of dreading an observation. Everything is as it should be. Yes things change — a certainty, here, for everyone. You can live an ocean or two away, learn a new language, eat more cheese and saucisson, play new things on a guitar, wake up to mysteries that takes a lifetime to explore — and you realise that you have the time, you have the means, you have what it takes to make it right. Yes things change. It doesn’t take a degree in mathematics to calculate that. They always change. And in that sense, nothing changes, at all.
