Phil Penne Creations

#25 - The Art Museum

 

 

        It is one of those oppressively hot and humid days when birds lack the motivation to fly and your shadow sticks to the sidewalk. The exhaust from buses and cabs hangs in the air in an acrid brown cloud, horns blast, and people jostle into each other on the sidewalk, cell phones to their ears, oblivious even to this most crude form of human contact. You carom off other the other navigators of the concrete, making your way to the one small oasis of solitude you have found in this desert of insanity: 

        The art museum. 

        Once through the massive wooden doors, you are in a quiet, climate-controlled world made up of individual, evenly lit countries, each with its own unique landscape. Though the museum is sometimes busier than you’d like you can still deal with time on your own terms, walking leisurely from one room to another, scrutinizing every detail of each painting. The ballerinas of Degas, with their lithe limbs and ribboned hair, smile at you. Your heart is quieted by the serene gardens of Monet. Even the more chaotic renderings of Picasso instill in you a certain peace of mind not found in the chaos of the world outside. 

        What was is your doctor called it? Creutzfeldt - Jakob disease... 

 

 

 

When the body is wracked with disease, sometimes a rabbit hole can take you to a place not accessible by medical science...