ABSTRACT
Wittgenstein was wrong: when lovers kiss they whistle into each other’s mouth a truth old and sayable as the sun, for flesh is palace, aurora borealis, and the world is all subtraction in the end.
e world is all subtraction in the end, yet, in a small vaulted room at the azimuth of desire, even our awkward numbers sum. Love’s syllogism only love can test.
