A Tropical Rain's presence
It's finally started to rain. My mind has, in consequence, woken up after a long hibernation. There's a little rivulet on the wall behind me descending from the pointless hole made for the dud air conditioning unit. Outside in the patio you can smell and feel on your skin the standing ovation of the flowers. (I just checked.) My son is so eerily like me, he even has trouble with maths. From the little I've read, there are two schools of thought in teaching maths: one, adhered to by my own teachers back in Primary, holds that you should make numbers and operations comprehensible to children by talking about pizzas, pencils and basketball teams; the other holds that this is a perversion of the sacred concept of number, which is but imperfectly adumbrated in nature, and that you should give it to them straight: the number three is not an abstraction arrived at from successive contemplation of little groups of things, on the contrary, the little groups of things a...