The Fountainhead – Howard Roark and Gail Wynand

The last chapter of The Fountainhead is titled Howard Roark. It’s the purest and the most sublime piece of artwork I have read in a long time.  It is written straight from the heart, I am using a cliché comparison but I don’t want to, its an insult to it but not writing anything about it would be even more.

I read the conversation between Gail and Howard and its nothing sort of musical harmony, a symphony, an orgasm of intelligence. It automatically puts a smile on your face, a smile of appreciation, of confidence, of satisfaction, of having a chance to read those lines and happen to try to understand those two men. Only if were possible I would give anything to meet those men and listen them talking without  disturbing them. I have read the conversation between Dominique and Gail, and Dominique and Howard but they don’t match the brilliance of the one between Gail and Roark. The two have an un-said un-known understanding of each other right from the moment they met for the first time, it lends such an intimacy between them which is hard to even find in true lovers, like Dominique and Howard.

After reading more than half of this master piece, I am suddenly so aware of my thoughts. I am searching for an adjective to every thought and every feeling that I have every passing second. It’s a wonderful feeling to have and I have a gentle smile on my face of which I am aware and it calms me immensely. I feel like I can sit in a corner in a mob and be completely unaware of it, lost in my own thoughts if I want to. Or maybe I would love to observe the details in the mob because that’s one of the things I love about the world around me, its  details.

Advertisement