You are born on a day, the nineteenth, for example, of the fifth month of the year 1990. You are the second child. The first thing you do is cry, then your mother snuggles you in her two arms. They weigh you and measure you to put on the first numbers. Others will depend on those, such as the size of the clothes they put on you. You grow up, they give you your citizen number, and you go through a series of courses arranged numerically, they give you grades from one to ten and that determines your future: depending on your numbers you can choose or not. You keep increasing the number of years: "can I have your number?", how many people have you slept with? How many couples have you had? How many countries have you visited? "You know how much I love you?". How much money do you earn? What is your house worth? What day is your anniversary? How many children do you have? And grandchildren? How old were you when you retired? At what age did he die?

A bowl is born. How much mud have you used? How many minutes did it take you to do it? What serial number did you put on it? At what temperature did you cook it? What percentage of pigment did you add to the enamel? How wide is it? And high? What capacity does it have? What size is it based on? How much does it weigh? Who much does it cost? Give me one.

Top Image: Munch, E., circa 1894. Madonna . Oil on canvas , Nasjonalgalleriet .