1. Heading towards the museum, I couldn’t help but feeling nauseous. I don’t blame the snowy cold.

2. Our eyes have met somehow and we shared peculiar grief.

3. I always thought if she was ever an object she would be the museum.

4. Now pushing those heavy doors, I walked straight up the entrance gateway.

5. No one was present yet, it was dawn,

6.the tint of soggy peach shades were gliding through the glass windows upstairs.

7Color seems to have outwitted the words. I glanced the neon. Slightly stepped onto the heavy words that took my pathetic body upstairs.

8Melting with the snow that was now greeted by the Mother Nature I glided through the spaces.

9. Through the corridors of paintings standing there inside hiding from the gaze from eager and curious visitors from unusual languages.

10. painting where her eyes would move around the frame first and slowly down down down to face. She would lastly intensely passionately look inside the eyes with orange green eyes. Those reflected upon the dark black color which mashed out and resembled a big wishing star gleaming inside a dark pool of emotional lake.