I would cry when I thought. Not just the feel of it - that release that comes when the Ahhh! of a thought drops down to a shape on a page, or out through an ejaculate Yes! up from a great conversation, or when you're looking at your favorite painting again, tenth time this year, and you feel you've seen it at last - no: not just a feeling - an unfeelable awe. That tension connecting you to something sublime that comes from all that isn't there, to leave just thought, right here on the page. Especially a Vinci drawing, the way the humaness of it resonates still, into being right here, out from the ink that over centuries has silently reached into the page. And how he's penned his description beneath the image, allowing it space to hover up; give it room enough to escape out from the top of the page. And take me with it, tears streaming down my cheeks as we launch through a cold page sky untouched.