The story of numbers

Hi guys, a continuation of thoughts.

What do you think if our strips do not contain any words at all? Or like w/ Titus, all word bubbles can only contain numbers? As in letting them be pantomimes and to rely upon pure visual story telling? On top of that, I have this idea of juxtaposing our strips against 2 possible passages:

Option 1 : 'Pi' by Kate Bush

Sweet and gentle sensitive man
With an obsessive nature and deep fascination
For numbers
And a complete infatuation with the calculation
Of PI

Oh he love, he love, he love
He does love his numbers
And they run, they run, they run him
In a great big circle
In a circle of infinity

3.1415926535 897932
3846 264 338 3279

Oh he love, he love, he love
He does love his numbers
And they run, they run, they run him
In a great big circle
In a circle of infinity
But he must, he must, he must
Put a number to it

50288419 716939937510
582319749 44 59230781
6406286208 821 4808651 32

Oh he love, he love, he love
He does love his numbers
And they run, they run, they run him
In a great big circle
In a circle of infinity

82306647 0938446095 505 8223…


Option 2: Text by Bruno Munari
Your heart goes tick tock. Listento it. Put your hand on it and feel it. Count the beats: one, two, three, four.... When you have counted sixty beats a minute will have passed. After sixty minutes an hour will have passed. In one hour a plant grows a hundredth of an inch. In twelve hours the sun rises and sets. Twenty-four hours make one whole day and one whole night. After this the clock is no good to us anymore. We must look at the calendar: Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday make one week. Four weeks make one month: January. After January come February, March, April, May, June, July, August, September, October, November, December. Now twelve months have passed, and your heart is still going tick tock. A whole year of seconds and minutes has passed. In a year we have spring, summer, autumn and winter. Time never stops: the clocks show us the hours, calendars show us the days, and time goes on and on and eats up everything. It makes even iron fall to dust and it draws the lines on old people's faces. After a hundred years, in a second, one man dies and another is born.

We can try to get permission to use their text if you guys are keen. The idea here is for the text to be almost like 'soundtracks' that don't have any fixed relationship w/ our stories but nevertheless 'resonate' w/ them.

Best,
Budi