God is a MASTER painter, of this I am sure. Cloaking terra firma in the landscapes of Turner, Monet, and Harry Benjamin. The shimmering edges of color way out at the periphery of your Rothko-vision. Beautiful fluid abstractions, pillars of star birth. Gossamer shimmering of energized nebulae-- voluptuously soft. Those rare golden-light New Mexico days: Charcoal alto-cumulus clouds, a break on the distant horizon, the magic, yes MAGIC of the science of refraction and the whole of your perceived universe is bathed in the most beautiful cognac-golden light. Yes, your entire universe bathed in the light that would be the marriage of rose-gold and argentum. It can last the lapse of a breath or an entire evening. 0mobola 0mongom$u, quiet possibly my most promising student ever. Nigerian born, and passionate about her education, even at 2nd grade. "I want to be a writer, Mr. Madrigle. When I grow up I will be a writer." My favorite part of my visit to Nigeria were the walks. The walks in the cool, crisp morning mists, with my cousins. Yes, at second grade. I knew with those two finely crafted sentences that she was TRULY gifted. With those two sentences I could smell Nigeria, I could feel those very mists softly caressing my skin. I so pray she is navigating her way through the insanity of being a teenager and still crafting such poetically rhythmic pros.