Overwhelmed and memorised by the Chagall exhibit, can't believe I can see the real paintings in front of me. The man at war from 1912 and the lovers in blue have especially evoked emotion. Moving into his later period I am scare to even look directly at one of my favourite paintings as I then the corner. Is it really here?
As I look out of the windows at the choppy grey Mersey it feels the perfect stormy weather to be inside with these paintings. I wish I could look at them forever.
I can't believe how close to them I am, being able to see the different brush strokes and thickness of some paint. The colours so vibrant, after all this time.
Seeing the Promenade reminds me of my essay in college and writing about romantic symbolism. The painting feels safe and happy, they are happy and safe with each other.
