Claude Monet The Road Bridge at Argenteuil

Claude Monet The Road Bridge at ArgenteuilClaude Monet The Bridge at ArgenteuilClaude Monet Spring 1880Claude Monet Snow at ArgenteuilClaude Monet Houses of Parliament London
you ought to be now is here.’ He looked at them again, and then industriously scratched an ear.
‘What the hell,’ he said. ‘The trouble is, I can explain it in Dog but you only listen in Human.’
‘It sounds a bit mystical to me,’ said Ginger.
‘You said something about my eyes,’ said Victor.
‘Yeah, ‘You should know.’
‘There you are, then,’ said Gaspode. ‘And you look at Dibbler next time you see him. Really look, I mean.’
Victor rubbed his eyes, which were beginning to water. ‘It’s as though Holy Wood has called us here, is doing something to us and has, has-’ well. Have you looked at your own eyes?’ Gaspode nodded at Ginger. ‘You too, miss.’ ‘Don’t be daft,’ said Victor. ‘How can we look at our own eyes?’ Gaspode shrugged. ‘You could look at each other’s,’ he suggested. They automatically turned to face each other. There was a long drawn-out moment. Gaspode employed it to urinate noisily against a tent peg. Eventually Victor said, ‘Wow.’ Ginger said, ‘Mine, too?’ ‘Yes. Doesn’t it hurt?’