I'm so sorry, I was hoping that we could see each other . . . there is a solution to this, when you are here, before you go back, I can take my computer in and get it nuked and paved.

The painting hangs on the wall.

A sunflower, bending its head, peered at us with its round, polyphemic, impersonal eye, the long yellow lashes half-curled over the great black pupil.

ℝⁿ is a Polish space