"So I talked to my mom today." I said sipping on my tea.
"Oh how is she?" Blake asked, "I mean was she angry?"
After a whole day of dealing with our oh so painful hangover, Cece decided to spend the day with Drake, whom I still had to meet.
I, on the other hand settled on wasting the entire day on Netflix (One Tree Hill needed some serious catching up), when Blake showed up knocking on Cece's door. Right now we are at Harry's and Blake is eating a chocolate chip brownie like there's no tomorrow.
"Yeah well, that and very upset. I talked about independence and taking my own decisions and she cooled down. Sort of."
"I'm impressed, so when are you going back?"
"What do you mean when, I haven't done anything here yet."
He eyed me, "Okay, what are you going to do here?"
"Don't quite know." I mumbled.
Blake grabbed my hand, "C'mon, let's go."
"Where?" I picked up my purse and started putting on my jacket while Blake's already dragged me out of the cafe.
"New York, baby."
++++
"First stop-" Blake breathed into my ear as we got out of the cab.
"Museum of Modern Act," I completed his sentence.
As we entered the revolving glass doors of MoMA, air conditioning hits our face. We just stood there, absorbing the atmosphere of this place. Blake grabbed my hand and slowly started tugging it, I looked at him.
With a soft smile, "Let's go." He said.
When we walked further in, the crowd reduced. The first thing that catches my eye is a humongous pencil upside down, mounted in a pyramid. Very sepia, this sprawling of a sculpture was stunning. I removed my hand from his, to walk around it. Blake slowly walked behind me, "Beautiful, isn't it?"
I turned around, "I don't really like that word, but yeah it is."
"Beautiful?"
"Yeah, too overrated." I turned away and started to walk.
As he came close, I looped my fingers through his arms. He flashed the cheesiest smile at me, eyebrows raised. I rolled my eyes, "Just walk."
There were a lot of pathways and we had no clue where we should start. After a minute of debating, we both decided on the right-most one. Through the passage, there were monochrome photographs hung on the chic white walls. I think it was by Trace Nicols. It was series of clicks where an (almost naked) man is holding a chair and then a bicycle. These could pass for polaroids.
Towards the end of the passage, there was the large rectangular room where only one single (but very very long) painting was hanged through out the three walls. Getting a closer look, I realized it was more than one paintings stuck together. All of this abstract was very inviting. Each work says a lot, and it phenomenal how somehow they all makes sense. Like they are connected, but still completely different. I love how the same thing can be interpreted differently.
I glanced at Blake whose eyebrows were knitted, his nose was scrunched up and his mouth almost pouting; he was trying to put two and two together, almost like he is unraveling the depth of the art piece.
