The Well Tempered Recluse

Oh, how the eremite glitters and flings himself high, streams along the currents, veers around the dangling aerial amoebas, vaults over thunderheads, and returns. How he sweeps along the bow-bend and pushes the portly waves while listening to the peals roll through the cold rain. That zany recluse heaps the jazzy banding, the happy, far-out happenings, and the silly. terraced hues.

And, that bleeping, flickering ENIAC blurts reds and pinks, blue and purple, as it ticker tapes out a hairy romp for the festive dotcommers. Silicon Alley is awash in a footing multitude.

From a distance, we convulse in disjointed awe. Some gasp. Some turn away. Others stir in hiding for the hermit's mastery and achievement.

Painting is Composition X by Wassily Kandinsky.