Art and the philosophy of life

How they met…

“Where are we?” she asked.

“Nowhere,” he said.

“Every place is somewhere, there is no place that’s nowhere.”

“That makes sense, but it’s not true,” he said.

“How can we be nowhere?  If we keep walking, we’ll have come from somewhere to some place else.”

“Not necessarily.”

“You mean we’re walking on a möbius strip?”

“Life is a möbius strip, it just seems as if it isn’t because time is added to the equation.”

“That’s insane,” she laughed.

“Still, it’s true.”

“People say nowhere, so they don’t have to answer questions.  If someone asks where you were, you can say you were nowhere but you actually were somewhere.”

“If you say so.”

“Well, thanks for the chat.,” she said, happily.  “I really like coming to the Philosophers Coffee Shop and talking to one of you.”

“That’s what we’re here for,” he said, grinning.

“See you tomorrow?” she asked.

“I’ll be here.  Think of a new topic if you like.”

“I will.  Have a nice day.”

“You too.  By the way, what’s your name?”

“Plato.  What’s yours?”


“Tomorrow then?”

She nodded, picked up her bag and left.


Comments on: "How they met…" (2)

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