Not Religious

W. and I on the train drinking our Plymouth gin from plastic cups. ‘How come you got more ice than me?’ He reaches over and grabs a handful of mine.

W.’s book on the table. ‘Cohen’ sighs W. ‘That’s what I should be reading, instead of talking idiocies with you.’

Then he tells me about calculus and God. ‘That’s why Rosensweig thought God existed. It’s all about calculus!’ W.’s dad tried to teach him calculus. W. didn’t understand a word. ‘I wasn’t ready.’ But W.’s found a website now. He does exercises.

A little later, he says, ‘We’re not religious. We’ve got no interest in religion. We’re not capable of religious belief.’