How does he do that I ask
I don't tell everyone but this is a sunken shape, coloured with non-reflective pigment says the gallery guide
I go on to ask about the transparent cube?
I can't actually say much about that, Anish is till secretive about some of what makes his fortune
We are outside now, into the industrial landscape, to see art that makes a statement; did I even hear someone say ‘he is the beginning of our fresh shoots of recovery’
Almost impossible to photograph, in isolated entirety at any rate; I am though affected; first physically, from the distance of the footbridge
I feel to be being drawn inwards, as though the wire shape invokes the effects of a fairground vortex
Back on terra-firma my consciousness marvels at their ideas, commends the fine technical skill
We continue our journey onwards, propelled across the river; our first time on a transporter bridge, further impressed we travel up the coastal route, past the tall ships; sails at rest to the backdrop of boarded up terraced houses
We pass edge of town shops, securely shuttered, travel on to a solitary column of rock off the cliffs edge where we take photographs, before checking-in to our 4 star hotel
After a couple of beers, in a pub full of hen-parties we have lamb biryani with aubergine on the side, followed later by a stroll along a quiet promenade
We are in search of the nights invisible starlit moon
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Lord, of the diminutive rock
Thus he sits
To turn his back on Prussia's blue
