Was my number perfect or incomplete, beautiful or ugly, real or mere illusion? I tried to calculate it but couldnt step into the same river twice. I needed air and, thank Empedocles, there was still some left in the bucket.
A woman looking for birds found as well a perfect temperament. It was alone on a park bench, feeding the pigeons. Because of its nature, she couldnt tell the temperaments age, or even its sex, really.