The Mathematics Of Love - Patterns, Proofs, And... -

Arthur adjusted his spectacles. "Turbulence is noise, Elena. In a perfect model, noise is discarded."

Elena stopped laughing. She walked over and picked up a red dry-erase marker. She didn't write a number. She drew a circle around the two of them, then a messy, jagged line that looped back on itself—the symbol for a strange attractor in chaos theory. The Mathematics of Love - Patterns, Proofs, and...

Elena was a doctoral candidate in Fluid Dynamics, but she dressed like a storm. She carried a scent of ozone and old paper, and she had a habit of leaning against Arthur’s pristine whiteboards, smudging his equations with the sleeve of her oversized cardigan. Arthur adjusted his spectacles

He put down his pen. He didn't need to solve for X . He just needed to be part of the equation. She walked over and picked up a red dry-erase marker

The whiteboard in Professor Arthur Penhaligon’s office was a graveyard of failed romantic logic. For forty years, Arthur had attempted to distill the chaotic human experience of "falling" into a series of elegant, predictable proofs. He called it the .