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The heptagon
Seven is a popular number, and especially it was a favourite with Miss Amelia. Seven swallows of water for hiccups, seven runs around the millpond for cricks in the neck, seven doses of Amelia Miracle Mover as a worm cureher treatment nearly always hinged on this number. It is a number of mingled possibilities, and all who love mystery and charms set store by it.
Carson McCullers: The ballad of the Sad Café
In that bible of Victorian Theosophy, Helena Blavatskys Secret Doctrine, is a line drawn from the precepts of Euclids Elements that states: the construction of a mathematically perfect heptagon is impossible. In the 70s, John Michel, in one of the essential reference works of the mystical geometer City of Revalation restates the same problem: No one can draw a mathematically perfect heptagon. It is a secret that, as Blavatsky puts it has not been revealed.
At nineteen I was naïve enough to take that as a challenge and I set to, armed like the geometricians of ancient Greece, with straight edge, compass and pencil, in an eager attempt to disprove her assertion
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