That floats on high o’er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,

A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Continuous as the stars that shine

And twinkle on the Milky Way,
They stretch’d in never-ending line

Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.
The waves beside them danced; but they

Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:
A poet could not but be gay,

In such a jocund company:
I gazed — and gazed — but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:
For oft, when on my couch I lie

In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye

Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

By William Wordsworth (1770-1850).

Photograph: Two Greek words basically meaning, “Light-writing”, which is what we all are; written on light, as i mentioned in response to your post “If no one Tweets about it…”

Experience, like dream, is self luminous. There is only light because we see. We are the spirit that moves over the face of the deep

On another note, I saw a matinee of Oleanna today. Amazing! Mamet’s “The Wicked Son” was being given out outside the theater before the show and because the show was so good I’ll definitely read it. I hope to be able to see you in something else in the future!