It's been quite some time, for which I apologize. Emma waxes poetic: "and the light of the room becomes undescribably interesting..." Actually, I am amazed at all of my friends. Undescribably interesting... Yet you know exactly what she means, when she speaks of the sun and how it orangely extends itself into the rooms, blasting through the clouds with a sonic boom and glowing every unpainted wall... How the purple sky wraps it up, smothering it as night comes. Yes, there is no way to describe it without waxing poetic, but I try too hard. There is something about a surprise poet, who has not already established herself as such. Incidentally, while Rich enjoys the structure of math and of physics, I am wholly wallowing in my mathless existence! I order the universe in other ways.