To see if it was there
-Emily Dickenson
Since I am such a good self-dater, I treated myself to the Louvre exhibit last night. I spent the hours of the night wandering the Minneapolis Institute of the Arts. A museum I need to take better advantage of. The perfect museum for unassuming scrabble games.
The Dickenson stanza above weaved in and out of a shadowed figure within the museum's permanent collection. The poem was scribed on a woman, in all her nude and bearing glory, with her palms to the sky. The lyric caught my attention and I vowed I would remember it (like so many other things throughout the day I pretend to make note of). Most quickly fade. That was one reason I loved writing on this blog everyday. I held so tight to those moments in life. Promised myself never to forget.
Somehow, yesterday's discovery was only partly lost to me. I cannot recall the contemporary artists who sketched those words into skin. Google has failed me on that one. Perhaps a call to MIA is in order.
I held onto those words though. I won't let it go. It can't fly away.
So today I sit during my lunch hour putting this in writing before it is lost again.
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