Little fly, Thy summers play My thoughtless hand Has brushed away. Am not I A fly like thee? Or art not though A man like me? For I dance And drink and sing, Till some blind hand Shall brush my wing. – William Blake Songs of experience – 1795 Thank you Tarquin.
The latter half of this film goes into some technical detail, but at the very least, the beginning demonstrates very nicely why I enjoy doing it so much.