"So, Debussy. "Moonshine." It starts off slowly, and you lift with the current, this sort of warm levitating feeling. Then it picks up, cresting to a victorious apex, but it's a curious kind of victory, for even as it approaches fulfillment, each triumphant note is undercut by evanescence, a hint of loss that is contrary to the apparent trajectory of the song, and at the same time its true destination. The eventual collapse of the idea of escape is the real heart of the tune, even as we float joyfully on its evasions. It contained both failure and reward at the same time, and it was okay."
-- Colson Whitehead, The Noble Hustle: Poker, Beef Jerky, and Death. (FWIW - I spent the bulk of the book alternately wanting to shake Whitehead and marveling at his words. Which was part of the point, I think.)
Also! Martini Friday is back, baby.