Someone once said to me:
'Berrington was a man who could whistle
A timetable in minutes he could chisle,
When he took up NFP, he hummed like a bee
But now he weeps like he stepped on thistle.'
The 'now' is now the then and therefore though weeping might have been true then now it's something inbetween. Whether I could really whistle the timetable it's just a matter of rhetoric for I could and indeed do whistle in whatever time I grasp to an extent that others have thought that I'm kind of a master whistler, if ever there was something of that nature, although I'm pretty sure that I would be no lesser than a mere novice.
That's what immortalisation does: freezing moments and time into timeless existence. When you meet the one being described you would most often than not fail to recognise him/her, for time would have swiftly passed, planting wrinkles that were never there, and obviously missing in the description.
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