Translucent.

Wyeth, Hoffman's Barn, 1959

Birches, snow, firewood, sky, road, fire, smoke, frost— I repeated the words that I remembered for only a slightly shorter time than I remembered myself. Birches, snow, firewood, sky, road, fire, smoke, frost— the words grew, as if they were material, had material energy; the words sounded symphonically, one through another, without blending, the frost was frosty, the fire fiery, the smoke smoky; the words became translucent, melting slightly, like pure flame, their phonetic casings lost their hardened precision, and the eye perceived the pure essence of meaning— like a bubble of air in a precious stone, refracting the light differently.

Sergei Lebedev