I can't recall the plot this morning only the painted backdrops, flounces and the colour, too much colour, colour so dark and rich it tired my eyes and I thought of Des Esseintes' bejewelled tortoise. Here I have to admit this surfeit of polychromasic sensation was at least partially self inflicted as I had been fiddling with my projector and had managed to boost all channels to ridiculous levels.
This morning the road to London seems bloodless in comparison.
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