613,200 or thereabouts. As a Greek tongue uttered,
“Being exact is superficial – and misses the point.”
For example, there is always something singular about a droplet of acid – especially when it’s deoxyribonucleic.
And when I said there were 31 days in my ‘birthday’ this year, I trusted you wouldn’t take the news literally.
As suspected, I’m a bit of a codjer – a seanamadán.
“To play with words is to tickle your imagination” – as Socrates’s mother said, the day he made the Brazilian team.
The poetry of numbers is infinite and tangential to the main stream. That’s why particles of verse – those that pass the litmus test – prove to be a promising investment during pandemonia.
What a demon of a number that has been – at times.
It’s the conundrum that’s a treat to understand, I imagine.
From Bath to Cork with baby Grace 