X

GODDAMIT CATHERINE OPEN THE GODDAMN BOOK AND READ ME THE LINES.

Reading this passage brought to mind a conversation with Zeyu, containing an argument where perceived beauty was influenced by personal attachment. I suppose this distills to a general rule that some thing hold more significance for some people because of a personal experience, personal reason, which may or may not be shared.

(Beat.)

Sometimes these connections are willingly (more or less) formed - as evidenced when people form relationships with fictional characters (occasionally bordering on fanaticsm, see craze about movies etc.) Far be it from me to judge them, I'm just using them to prove a point.

(Catherine opens the book. She reads slowly, without inflection.)

But some are less so.
Connections formed not by choice, but the association stays there all the same. Good or bad memories alike stick in the mind, easily called up by a certain string of words, a sense of déjà vu, a short melody.

"Let X equal the quantity of all quantities of X. Let X equal the cold. It is cold in December. The months of cold equal November through February. There are four months of cold, and four of heat, leaving four months of intdeterminate temperature. In February it snows. In March the Lake is a lake of ice. In September the students come back and the bookstores are full. Let X equal the month of full bookstores. The number of books approaches infinity as the number of months of cold approaches four. I will never be as cold now as I will be in the future. The future of cold is infinite. The future of heat is the future of cold. The bookstores are infinite and so are never full except in September..."

And sometimes we never really appreciate the connection we had back then because that's how things are: we never really do appreciate them until they're almost gone. I now understand what Mr Auggy said about Duffy's $ on the breakdown of language, although I feel it might be a completely different understanding that what he intended to convey.

(She stops reading and slowly closes the book. Robert is shivering uncontrollably.) It's alright. We'll go inside.

- Italics excerpt from Proof, David Auburn (2001)