In the process of making inks I perform many tests. One of these involves pouring the ink across a piece of paper to see how it flows, the rate at which pigments precipitate, and the relative viscosities of binders and other ingredients. I write various observations on these experiments and pin them to a wall for reference. One day I looked at this wall of notes and, to my delight, realized that the poured forms of these tests looked like feathers. I had unwittingly forged a delightful statement regarding the imagination. The French philosopher Gaston Bachelard noted that “the dynamic imagination puts seemingly unrelated objects into the same motion.” On this wall I had given stones—the motionless denizens of the earth—the agency of weightlessness and flight. The earth, in the form of feathers, was being given back to the sky.