'You appear like a ghost in a field, gradually fading in; ‘waking up in the world’. You are now lying in a ripening field of golden barley corn and the detail everywhere is astonishing. You spend many moments looking at grass stems, insects, your hands fingering the softness of the soil and feeling the feedback sensation through the interface. The stems of the corn move perfectly in the breeze. You examine the ends of the corn, the ears; the detail. You pull at one of the brownish leaves and feel the slight resistance. You roll over onto your back and stare at blue sky, a lone cloud drifting across it. There is wind here. Then you stand up. It’s brilliant. You’re in the middle of a field; on a sloping hillside. The wind is softly reproduced out of a very rich, blue sea-line and, a fair distance below, sea water is shining into a wide estuary where the tide is out.'

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