Day 3250 —Shattering Visages—

    While running in the dark today, I thought about Ozymandias and kept rearranging phrases in my head. I went from "a Thousand Visages Deep" to "Breaking Visages" to "Broken Visages." I love the way the word "visage" sounds in my head and how it brings to mind the image of a face made of rocks broken on the ground.

    Despite all the violent accomplishments of conquerors and religious figures, Percy Shelley believed that art was the one thing with the potential to last forever. He considered poetry to be the highest form of art, and perhaps he was right. After all, we are still reading his poems over 200 years after his death. Not bad.