chapters moved from more and more precise towards more and more precise, I found that I was moving further and further away. And it felt like there was some level of conscious influence on your part as well, moving further away from what made sense. In a sense, the book is both story about precision, but it's also an homage to imprecision. I'm so glad you got that. What I did not want the book to be was a sort of a pion to precision, saying precision is good in all of its manifestations. I wanted to say particularly, and you spotted it so well, thank you, that as you get more and more precise, you want to say, wait a minute, is this good for us? And aren't we forgetting things that we were once very good at, like craftsmanship and working with wood and working with our hands and doing things which are imprecise and which nonetheless remind us of our soul, because we were imprecisely made and yet we're beautiful. I'm not, but some people are very beautiful. There's no straight lines in (15/57)
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