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In this treasure trove of artistic wonders,
the background of soft classical music sets the stage,
turning the scene into a mystic dance.
Wherever you go, the art will be there,
an abstract painting here, a metal statue there
this place is a shrine for artists who give these things life,
the home for these relics of creativity.
And I stand transfixed, moving from one piece to the next
as my mother oohs and ahhs and my sister whines.
Their voices fade and only the music remains,
my mind sets off in a whirl of color and texture,
a mental dance with the art that I so admire.
Walking through the rooms is a magical experience
the air is so still, frozen in time
as I observe each work of art,
the culmination of one person's vision and toils
to create their personal masterpiece,
hoping for just one person to look and fall in love.
I can be that one person for them.
These inanimate objects look at me,
call out through their unique beauty,
beg to be admired, worshipped, loved
and I can happily oblige.
Life is breathed into their soulless bodies
by the person who poured their heart and soul into their project.
I can feel the distinct personalities of each one.
Time seems to stop, and I feel like I could stay here,
for days and nights, living in this gallery,
communing with these objects and learning their nuances.
It feels like home.
But my mother says its time to leave.
I take one glance back at my friends,
say a silent farewell
and unhappily turn towards the door
although something is calling me back.
The spell breaks as soon as I step out of the entranceway.
But the feeling remains.