Disappearance of worlds, all is lost, every moment of every day, what is right and wrong in this and any other picture, even the microbes change, transmute, worlds crumbling, worlds unnoticed, deaths of worlds, our deaths, our worlds among them
Disappearance of worlds, Edwin Schroedinger, the room in Arosa in the Annex of the Villa Dr Herwig, here one can imagine the desk, the chair, the books that were to change science, the air and its chemistry which has long since disappeared (replaced by combustion byproducts, radiations and other pollutants), the microbes in the cracks of the wooden floor, seepages where the walls cornered, ceiling interstices, and all since mutated, the particular smell of the place, the atomic-molecular constitution of the room which has disappeared forever, the sound of the snow perhaps, the coldness underfoot, perhaps the fire and its specific smokes and crackles, Schroedinger's pen, unobserved, the richness of the leather, the muted sounds coming from without, the air of excitement in cause of the reinvention of the physical worldview of the universe, the glazed sky, the cold crystalline air, the surfaces cold nearer the floor, warmed elsewhere, to the touch of Erwin Schroedinger, these moments, the memories of Schroedinger, his may loves, the woman who shall forever be unknown, his accommodating wife, the paper unruled perhaps, his amazing concentration, remnants of holographic notebooks, the winds and rattling panes, perhaps the sounds of wolves, animal scurrying in the underbrush, iced trees and long walks leaving damp spots, slight stains, in the room where Erwin Schroedinger compiled and completed the reintegration of the physical Weltanschauung of atomic and subatomic physics, the buildings perched on the hillsides, the peaked roofs, the dark gables and white exterior walls, the windows pursuant to the inn-keeping of warmth and the inhabitation of Erwin Schroedinger and the women who accompanied him, the distant sounds of vehicles, the Christmas of 1925, the new year of 1926, the smell of food, coffee or tea, in the room, the love-making of Erwin Schroedinger, the completed meals, the food taken away, the quality and color of the plates, the cups and saucers, the metal slightly cold to the touch and taste, of the spoons and forks and knives, the slight scarring of the body of Erwin Schroedinger maturing into early middle age, the women and the solitude, the specific references surrounding him, papers, notebooks, the presence of the telephone, the quality of its ring, the electric lamps and the dusk of falling snow, the worrying and the hounding of equations, the explanations of variables and constants, mathematics of quantum physics and vibrations of atoms, eigenvalues and functions, the distractedness of Schroedinger approaching the shores of universal forms, subtle background of chimney smoke, the inkwell and the black ink, the book of Schlesinger on differential equations, the sounds of laughter in the room of Erwin Schroedinger, the tinkling of glass from another room, smells of meats and vegetables suffusing the space of wave equations and the presence and slightly sexual smell of the unknown woman and Erwin Schroedinger, the air at 1700 meters in the Alps, the shadows and presence of the Weisshorn, the pulmonary tuberculosis of Erwin Schroedinger, the Viennese cook and the healthy cuisine, the small sounds of the pen moving across the page, slight cough of Schroedinger looking forward to the coming year and many more, the deep and sincere belief in the value of physical theory, the startling sound of a bird in the distance, echoing against the slopes, the rumours of Davos, mice scuttling across the floor, drifting snow outside, the windows darkened momentarily with a wintered squall, somewhere a crying kitten