Head in the clouds.

These Are The Clouds

These are the clouds about the fallen sun,
The majesty that shuts his burning eye:
The weak lay hand on what the strong has done,
Till that be tumbled that was lifted high
And discord follow upon unison,
And all things at one common level lie.
And therefore, friend, if your great race were run
And these things came, so much the more thereby
Have you made greatness your companion,
Although it be for children that you sigh:
These are the clouds about the fallen sun,
The majesty that shuts his burning eye.

- W.B. Yeats



Windows down, voulume up ... this was the accompaniment as I was exploring the backroads of central Ohio last night ... Viktoria Mullova playing the fiddle on Schubert's Fantasy for Violin and Piano, Andantino, D934