"Voyaging through strange seas of thought, alone ..." William Wordsworth

22 June 2011


Mondrian, White Irises against Blue Background, 1909

The present flowed by them like a stream. The tree rustled. It had made music before they were born, and would continue after their deaths, but its song was of the moment. The moment had passed. The tree rustled again. Their senses were sharpened, and they seemed to apprehend life. Life passed. The tree rustled again.

- E.M. Forster

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