Did you ever dream of adultness?
When I was younger it was mission to grow up.
I imagined myself in fitted sweaters, and scarves standing in the middle of the worlds most famous art gallery’s admiring the finest pieces known to humanity.
The spring brightness would waft through the glass windows sending streams of light all around me, while classical music played in the background…
Not even close!
A couple of years ago I found myself in the city of love, in all my imperfect adultness. I wore my sweater with my scarf and set out to find her.
The square outside the Louvre was covered in people as the sun shone brightly on a beautiful summer day. Music played from fountain, and it was a perfect moment of “I’m finally here”.
I breathed deeply, stepped up to the glass pyramid dome with the trickles of water and excited chatter… and joined a queue.
The people talked and chattered, pushed and shoved, and as I approached the room. The room I had been dreaming about forever. I found myself in the centre of the room and all I saw was people.
I’m short, by anyones standards. But in that moment I may as well have been a mouse. All I could see was people, feel people, and ergh even smell people. I stood high on the tips of my toes, and then I saw her.
A tressle of brown hair, weaved against a darkened canvas with an eye lit up. Like a bolt of light through the shoulders of Parisians and Parisian visitors, I made eye contact with Mona.
I studied every fleck of the eye staring back at me, and stood in awe, smiling in recognition that I was in the same room as the Mona Lisa. The worlds most talked about, sung about, written about painting.
It was a nightmare getting into that room. But absolutely worth the 15 second eye contact I made with the real thing.