I love the way incense smoke curls and moves, like some extraordinary mathematics; I love the ever changing, exquisite point at which it starts to wobble, the point at the top of a thin ribbon of hot vertical smoke where there is the first hint of struggle against the cooler air, where that thin, hot, confident ribbon blooms in ways that it couldn't have imagined: in quick pulses, in waves, in the architecture of spirals and curlicues that remodel my room with fragrance. ~ML
I've thought about a blog for my prattle, but... who'd read it?
So I'll just put it here. :)