Every formula is borrowed, taken from people who composed them in their own laboratories and signed them with their own names; the question, however, for whose sake the whole architecture of pointers, graphs, and archive was set in motion in the first place, is mine, and it sounds plain and engineerly: where, exactly, does wisdom live.
A literal question, without rhetoric — the way a programmer would ask about a variable: at what address. And if wisdom has no address, then perhaps it doesn’t exist either, and there’s only the habit of calling, after the fact, wise whatever happened, after the fact, to work.
At what address.