I’ll try and paint you a picture.  I hope my palette suits you.

Dinner was cooking on the stove.  The aroma filled the kitchen, and the cooking sounds were just barely audible.

The stereo was turned up loud, pumping out Heroin by the Velvet Underground.  The sound was other worldly.

The sunset was hours away.

The beer had just been opened, its mouth releasing a barely visible cloud of evaporation.

My stomach grumbled with anticipation.

If I have done my job well, you will be able to picture it. If the picture is especially vivid, you can understand why I would call it perfect.