I've begun writing up my next series of short stories: Timeless Ghost Stories: More Haunted Tales from the Dead of Night. Many of the ideas are already in place; now it’s a matter of developing them. As always, I’m looking forward to the process.
The structure, of course, was new, its massive columns recently carved, the colored stones and marble freshly quarried and shipped in from Italy, the many wall paintings mere replicas of ancient frescoes, the gardens newly planted, and so on. Yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that the past was very much here, linking hands with the present.
|Amphora, Death of Priam|
|Golden laurel wreath|
Over the years, I’ve returned many times to the Getty. Amidst the general hubbub of living voices, it’s harder now to hear the ghostly whispers; the echoes of the past. But the authors of these voices are there. I still can feel their presence.