Two eagles find each other somewhere above the treeline and decide, without words, to fall. They lock talons and drop, question there is: will you hold on when holding on costs everything? Every load tester knows you learn nothing at safe capacity. You have to push past the threshold, past comfort, past the instinct to survive alone, and see what remains. The spiral is the test. The ground is the deadline. And somewhere in that plummet, before the pull-up, before the sky returns, something either breaks or it doesn't. Most things break. These two don't. That's what love is, maybe. Not the choosing, but the falling, and the finding out.

Wow on this:

#Modus Vivendi

In July 2024, I read the 3 volumes of (Al-Bahai 1990), which was a very interesting read. I noticed how almost all Arab mathematician, including al-Amali himself. I enjoyed his poetry on number theory, and I felt too lazy to translate things that he felt okay to write in Parisian while being in an Arabic context. What's interesting though, other than the whole book (which consists of just a random set of notes) is really fun to read, is that it contains a lot of poetry that's so nice, but not locatable outside of this book, the author cites it to poets that he calls by name, but whenever I try to search their names, the results only redirects me to the book itself. I tries to hold a grasp on the math theories introduced in the book, but it was too difficult for me to understand properly. I plan to export these poems one day.