“Now, George is ascending fast. He’s lifted on the choir’s chorus. The bass, baritones, and tenors build a foundation upon which columns of sound rise up. As the coloratura sopranos seize their climactic pinnacle, George is floating three hundred feet above the floor, kicking his legs in fright. He is bumping the crown of his head against the impossibly ornate ceiling.
Vertigo. Dread. Exaltation. Confusion. He rotates his arms in circles for stability. The creamy vaulted dome restrains him. He panics. If the roof were not in place, he would float away across the plains of Andalucía.
Then, it happens. The shell ceiling is peeled back and he is squeezed up through a gap and is ejected into an ocean of clear air far above Córdoba. Two fluttering angels swoop down on silken wings, grasp his arms, and lift him into the stratosphere.”
Extract from “The Great Peace: journey to the heart”
by Francis Walsh