Knees and Pluto and Pascal

Scientists react to images from Pluto

I flipped through my emails early this morning, the ritual of deletion and clicks. I read a horrifying beginning of an article about Tinder in this month's Vanity Fair -- was relieved when I couldn't go further as a non-subscriber. I scrolled through a few tweets about last night's Republican "debate" and resolved, again, to not pay attention to anything having to do with those men and women -- did you hear me say ANYTHING? -- until September of 2016. I read somewhere that this is how they do it in France, so barring any demands to re-read Proust, I'm French for a year. Little threads of despair, hovering. My knee hurts, and I bet it's osteoarthritis, and I bet it's because I haven't exercised enough -- well, let's be honest -- my entire life. There's also the age factor and the curious, horrible way things happen when you get older -- not gradually, but all       of          a              sudden. Hairs sprouting from chins, a big toe that crackles, jowls and a front tooth that appears to be hearkening back to pre-orthodontia buck tooth days. Then I saw that photo, and tears streamed down my face (there's no original way to write that) because, really, we're all just hanging out here for a short time and the universe is vast and unknowable. As my compatriot Blaise Pascal said in the 17th century (remember I'm French for a year), vous admirez toujours ce que vous ne comprenez vraiment pas.*













*You always admire what you really don't understand.