I
always loved art, even when I was a little boy, my mom couldn’t keep her
paintbrush out of my hands. Today was no exception to that, and as I did almost
every weekend, I walked to the art museum that was about three blocks away from
my house on the south side of town.
The chilly
night air smelt distinctly of fall, as I trot down the main road leading to the
museum. When I arrive I am greeted by warmth and the sweet smell of paint and wood.
As I make my way deeper into the building the rooms explode with color,
paintings covering every inch of the walls, and sculptures create the paths
that intertwine between every single piece as not to miss a single one on your
visit.
Each time
I walk into this art museum I’m always warmed by each painting, but one in
specific caught my attention the most today, a picture of a clown sitting at a
table apparently smoking. For some reason that clown picture hasn’t left my
head since the day I saw it, I don’t know why but I just never forgot it.
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