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November 19, 2009

I love to watch the steam streaming upwards. When I place my fork in front of the candle its ghostly tails are highlighted in marbled rainbow light, like spilt petrol in a glassy puddle. I love the way it curls and spirals in the air; dancing its eerie waltz through the room. It is beautiful; a miracle of nature, so free as it floats round and round. Why does it move as it does? It could go anywhere, but instead it chooses to perform its hypnotic, ethereal waltz, enchanting all who watch. Isnít the intricate, delicateness of the world fascinating?