“The state of soul is no doubt responsible for my aversion to museums. The only museum for me is the whole of life, in which the painting is always accurate, the only inaccuracy being in the imperfection of the contemplator. I do what I can do to reduce the imperfection, and if I can’t do anything, then I rest content with the way it is, because, like everything, it can’t be any other way.”
Art Museums Part II
Eternity stretches in the years between us
while scandals become fairy tales
and the abstract sells for millions,
The birth of our creation remains
not only as the masterpiece
waiting in the museum.
whisper of night wind:
Witness of our existence
It is written on each page
of philosophy and poetry:
The vernacular of our love.
It is traced along the silhouette
on the wall where our shadows
embraced one another.
It is carved in the ruins
of the temple that was our bodies
while they held each other.
The world will contemplate
always in flawless imperfection
while perfection exists for those
who are the work of art.
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