Mathematics is a sea, a vast and deep ocean, where waves sketch formulas and swells conceal enigmas. In its depths lie questions that span millennia, existing since the birth of human reason. What is truth? And how can we know what is true? The angles of a triangle add up to 180 degrees, a statement as firm and indisputable as the turning of the sun. But how to explain it to a stranger, a traveler from another world who has never glimpsed basic geometry? One must resort to the art of proof, to trace with a steady hand and clear mind the path that leads to truth. Mathematics is not the tangled and monotonous arithmetic many believe it to be. It is a language, a poetry without words, music without notes, a dance of numbers and shapes. A mathematician does not multiply large numbers, but writes, thinks, creates. Like a fisherman casting his net into unexplored waters, the mathematician seeks to grasp the truth. Experimentation is not enough, not even a million, a billion times. A solid argument is needed, a clear and indisputable demonstration. The Goldbach Conjecture, a mystery as deep as the ocean abyss, has been verified up to an almost unimaginable number. But we still do not know if it is true or false. Mathematics does not accept partial proofs; it does not settle for clues. It demands certainty, rigor, an undeviating path towards the truth. What mathematics is cannot be found in schoolbooks, in confined classrooms, and chalk-covered boards. It resides in the human heart, in its thirst for knowledge, in its need to understand the Universe and itself. It is an eternal dialogue with the unknown, an endless journey into the land of knowledge, an embrace of truth in all its facets. And in every proof, in every equation, in every theorem, there lies a poetry of existence, a hymn to reason, a song of truth.