They can slowly grow from humble beginnings, like a forest of frozen dew crystals. Or catch experiences in mid-air, like the glistening stalks of grass along a frozen lakeshore — caught in the surf’s nightly descent into solidness. Or they can be free to meander about, a skin-tingling mist, pulling in passing rays and exposing their true colors.
And in a moment of beautiful creative mania, they come pouring out in a deluge as though from a ruptured vessel.
And yet, they are not so essential, as those life-giving molecules of neutral-clear tastingness.