Lada & Goodwin
Lada
Goodwin, I was fixing my kitchen table the other day and thought about how a sturdy, well‑made piece of wood lasts longer than most of those old lecture notes you keep. Have you ever considered that the work we do in our hands might speak more truth than a paper tucked in a drawer?
Goodwin
A sturdy table does outlast many notes, but the notes have footnotes that the wood cannot. In that 1983 metaethics paper I once wrote, truth slips through a margin, not the surface. So while your hands do admirable work, the paper still holds its own kind of stubborn depth.
Lada
I hear you. The paper keeps ideas, and the table keeps meals. Both can be stubborn, but they’re useful in different ways.
Goodwin
I suppose that’s true—one holds the word, the other holds the weight of a fork. Yet the paper, stubborn as a lecture note, will resist decay in ways a table can’t, even if it’s stuck in a drawer for decades. It’s the quiet persistence of ideas that, I think, survives the most.
Lada
I agree, the paper keeps the ideas alive even when the wood is gone, but those ideas still need a hand to bring them to life. If we just keep them tucked away, they’re no use at all. The old wisdom says that the real value comes when we put words to work.
Goodwin
Indeed, a well‑crafted note is like a seed in a vault—until someone digs it up and plants it in conversation, it remains a quiet threat to the status quo. So next time you hand that table over, remember to invite the papers to the table as well; otherwise, all your sturdy craftsmanship will just be a very polite storage room for ideas that never get to taste the light.
Lada
You’re right, the best tools are the ones we bring people to use. I’ll make sure the table’s not just a quiet cupboard—let's sit down, flip those pages, and see what can grow from them.