|
| READING ROOM | ||||
|---|---|---|---|---|
|
| COMMUNITY | |||
|---|---|---|---|
|
| ABOUT GREAT WRITING | ||
|---|---|---|
|
| WORK AWAITING REVIEW |
|---|
|
| WHO'S ONLINE |
|---|
| We have 1195 guests online and 5 members online |
| print friendly version | |
| Museum | |
| By gutterkitty | ||||||||||
| 20 February 2007 | ||||||||||
|
I've visited many museums throughout my (albeit short) lifetime, but my recent trip to a museum in Italy was unusual in that I felt a sharp sense of loss, along with the usual feeling of the past being preserved.
Here, history is kept in glass cases,
coffins, to keep away the dust that so easily obscures the exotic. The past gleams like a jewel from velvet pillows, to be caressed eagerly by the eye as it reaches through the glass to snatch at a different time.
Breath clouds the partition
between visitor and Roman matron, lost samurai. The mind fumbles to place a gold torque around a saxon’s neck. But the imagination fails, so busy groping for a complete image. Items drop to the floor of the mind. A sigh,
And then it is time to move on
to another case, another find, to inspire that sense of retainment, of gain as solid as stone tablets, polished marble. But the rings are empty. The person who once sat to be painted, sculpted, has left their stool. There is loss. Who was left behind- the objects by the people, or the people by the objects? Perhaps this is only a kind of lost property, after all; the artefacts have the air of waiting.
Only registered users can rate and write comments. Powered by AkoComment 2.0! |
||||||||||
|
|
Next item
|
|---|