"in january it snows graphite in the goat pelt. in february there appears the bouquet of chalk-white light and white stars. in march the avenging angel mates and the bricks and the moths flutter forth and the stars rock in their rings and the wing-breaker blossoms rustle on their chains and the princesses sing in their fog-pots. who hurries on little fingers and wings after the winds of morning" - Hans Arp
