“We must, incidentally, make it clear from the beginning that if a thing is not a science, it is not necessarily bad. For example, love is not a science. So, if something is said not to be a science, it does not mean that there is something wrong with it; it just means that it is not a science.”
-Richard Feynman, The Feynman Lectures on Physics, Vol. 1
I met someone yesterday.
I decided to go eat sketchy ass food in the street across from campus. What is sketchy ass food? It is food that is served in a grubby little hole in the wall the size of my bathroom. The whole establishment is smeared with grease. A dude in floppy slippers sitting on a stunted little stool makes seaweed-and-egg-drop soup in a wok in a corner of the room. He cranks out the most delicious steamed pork buns I have introduced to my mouth. He serves vinegar in a family-size teapot. I was walking toward these buns, and I saw a girl.
This girl was wearing a sweatshirt with grammatically correct English printed on the back of it, and she was singing. We were both walking into the smoggy sunset toward the sketchy ass food vendors.
I hovered behind her. I craned my neck to hear what she was singing. I didn’t know what it was. I decided that I would accompany it with whistling. She clutched her bag more tightly to herself and scuttled off in another direction.
I was not the pork bun she had been anticipating.
After I returned from visiting V. and Amelea, other than playing badminton once with my labmate, I have had little human interaction during Mid-Autumn Festival break.