16th December 1999
Late works of Turner. Pause. The brilliance and the blending of the colour. The room’s quiet and peaceful. People returning. Load foot-falls. The modernity and impressive immediacy of his works. Gaia walks around the room. Accurately observing and appreciating the paintings. Turner’s inside me. Now the place’s crowded. Shuffling of clothes, steps echoing against the walls, mumbling of foreign languages.
The silent integrity’s broken. I return to the shapes of colour and streams of light. The powerful emotions arising from the sights. Marvellous marvel. Enthusiasm. I shall stop dwelling in words.