Imagine the tip of a pen.  Set it to paper, and start marking a line.  The moment the pen begins to move, a shower of dust, ink, stars, splatters, exhaust, if you will, appears behind it in all directions.  And in front of it, pure, open emptiness.

"It is cruel, you know, that music should be so beautiful. It has the beauty of loneliness and of pain: of strength and freedom. The beauty of disappointment and never-satisfied love. The cruel beauty of nature, and everlasting beauty of monotony." -Benjamin Britten

Here we go, Day 70:
and because I just can't discern today, something totally different: Day 70, Part 2: