A literary extract today, from a playwright who was interested right from the start...
(The theatre critic Birdboot arrives at a performance and plumps himself down next to fellow-critic Moon)
Birdboot: ...I'm on my own tonight, don't mind if I join you?
Moon: Hello, Birdboot.
Birdboot: Where's Higgs?
Moon: I'm standing in.
Moon and Birdboot: Where's Higgs?
Moon: Every time.
Moon: It's as if we only existed one at a time, combining to achieve continuity. I keep space warm for Higgs. My presence defines his absence, his absence confirms my presence, his presence precludes mine... When Higgs and I walk down this aisle together to claim our common seat, the oceans will fall into the sky and the trees will hang with fishes.
Birdboot (he has not been paying attention, looking around vaguely, now catches up): Where's Higgs?
(Tom Stoppard: 'The Real Inspector Hound', 1967)