An artist passes me and says,
"Oh what wonderous paper, so full of hope and promise, waiting to be filled up with colour and emotion."
A chemist overhears and joins exclaiming,
"But oh no, it is nothing of the sort. It is wood pulp, mushed, chemically treated and dried in thin layers"
A mathematician draws close to the conversation and chuckles,
"But it is merely a tool, a tool on which greater truths can be designed?"
A poet appears, ambling on his way, pauses and declares,
"That my friends, is blessed purity."
I am confused. Who is telling the truth?