In the summer,
I stood there.
Inside heaven
glaring into the one of many works of Georges Seurat.
Somehow I managed
to be where I am
volunteering in the Metropolitan Museum.
And in the city that never sleeps,
I can see why.
"Evan,
come here."
Circus Sideshow was Seurat's view
on entertainment in Paris 1887.
"Dude seriously,
I need you to do some work."
Second week here
and I'm already head over heels
for the aesthetics from the past.
"EVAN"
I couldn't focus
with Paloma screaming.
It was as if something
had possessed her.
As I gave in
and walked backwards,
I accidentally fell over.
Not alone,
however.
Jesus, I'm extremely sorry.
But after looking into her pale green eyes,
was I really sorry?
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Aesthetic
KurzgeschichtenEvan is not sure if its the art or her that takes his breath away. Highest Rank: #135 in Poetry; #604 in Short Story