Sometimes all it takes is something else in front of you.
I have been roaming galleries, a new obsession with squeaking floorboards, silent whispers and perfectly humidified rooms. I am joking of course. Real pleasure lies in looking at the walls. They are decorated with pictures that someone painted for you to see, ideally sparking interest in observers for eternity. Very ambitious if you ask me. Some of them haven’t even seen their fame bloom to full extent, how tragic.
While I roam the gigantic rooms that leave plenty of space for your thoughts, I am beginning to seclude myself. I dive into contemplation, escaping from physical into the spiritual. The mind is occupied and the body rests.
My eyes rest on the colours and shapes and I wonder how many others have thought the same way about this canvas. I sit down, nay, I float in front of it. Cross-legged I have managed to escape burdens, at least I think I did.
I return outside, cold wind reminds me of reality. The real world isn’t perfectly humidified.
I escaped for a moment. But what’s it worth if nobody knows?
So here I am, telling you. About my great escape.