Why write poetry?
Greater folly can’t be found,
as is life wasted.
January 24, 2007
"He could not tell whether the substance was liquid or gas. It was a bright, whitish silver, and it was moving ceaselessly; the surface of it became ruffled like water beneath wind, and then, like clouds, separated and swirled smoothly. It looked like light made liquid -- or like wind made solid..."
-Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, J.K. Rowling.
This is my own “Pensieve.” Don’t look too closely or you might be over your head in the multifarious musings of my scattered mind.