Art: the reproduction of
what the senses perceive in nature
through the veil of the mist.
– Edgar Allan Poe
When I was young I thought a lot about life, truth, what is right, and what is good. I was confident that, with time, I would know more. Now my eyesight is fading, and it seems that the answers are further away than ever. Indeed, I’m no longer sure these questions have an answer at all.
As if reality is receding into the mists, leaving more and more grey areas. I wonder whether you become less and less sure of your ground, until you are swallowed by the mists of uncertainty?
Is that why they mean by “behind the veil”?
* * *
The 100-wcgu at Julia’s Place: Grey.
Stray Thoughts 