In the bathroom basin I notice that the shiny convex plug reflects the stream of water from the tap, coming up towards it. At a certain rate of flow, the reflected and the real streams seem to meet and to flow into one another.
Remembering Fidelio on Wednesday evening, I recall moths flitting in and out of the spotlights, as Beethoven's music floats up toward them.
Anomalous words, which sound attractive at first glance, are often paired, some in hope and some in error, some in both. In Morrison's supermarket the words "succulent mangoes" used to describe rock-hard, unripe fruit, fall so neatly into both categories, that I cannot withold a frisson.