Elad’s blog

To the benefit of the contemporary art lovers, Francisco de Goya outlived his epoch.

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Over six months ago, I presented you this small riddle, about the elephant on the lake. I was surprised to find that it still bothers some of my friends; last night, it seems, Lior wasted precious sleeping hours trying to proove a mathematical  solution. So for all who are still interested, here is my solution and proof; do try to solve it yourself before looking at the answer. I included a bit of simple math in there, and I apologize for being so unpolite; but it is the easiest way to convince some people that this is really the solution.
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I guess it’s a cultural thing. Still, it’s sort of saddening that many top artists are drug addicts. It is even more saddening when they get to the point that they make shows in front of audience while clearly under drug influence; and the worst is that substantial portions of the audience don’t seem to care - in fact, they look as if they use drugs themselves. Judging by the show we went to see yesterday, some even use them in the club, during the show.

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Being a Nobel Prize Laureate gives you some advantages. For example, you can be late for your own lecture by half an hour and everybody in the audience will wait. There are even wierder prerogatives: you can, for example, use old-style hand-written slides on ancient projectors that should have retired instead of fancy computerized presentations: still, everybody would listen intently. I did. Yesterday. Together with many mathematicians and academic staff.

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There’s this place in Be’er-Sheva, which is more or less my favourite place every time I’m at the south. Sort of regular: every time I’m around and hungry, I go there.

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On Thursday Ofir called. “Let’s make a hike tommorow”, he proposed. Of course. Only that by the time we woke up and got ready in Friday, it was already past noon. Not that it matters: a late wakeup at an almost full moon make an excellent opportunity for a nocturnal visit to some pretty places.

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The vultures are nesting.

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In a context entirely different then the original intention.

Take, for example, something Bob Dylan wrote many years ago:

to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free,
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands,
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves,
Let me forget about today until tomorrow.

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