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When candle-light cavorts through wine’s red iridescence and frolics on the clean white whimsy of ironed purity, the question "shadow or reflection?" only has fresh luster when for this particular audience, the notion is novelty.

But tonight it is the carefree meandering of a an unsung moon – one but a few days post-harvest – that catches my weary eye.

Here are shadows and reflections worth getting out of bed to capture: armies of photons have arranged themselves pleasantly in compositions of nature and culture. They have invented themselves, and I have merely marveled.

Of intangible questioning there is enough. Your metaphysic must defer to light’s evasive duality. But I defer to a Trinity whose evasiveness lasts only as long as one’s doubt.

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