My family has recently moved to a new home in a new country. It was a well-furnished apartment, and in our bedroom was a painting that looked like hair free-flowing in the air. It wasn't a pleasant or soothing painting, but I was trying to make peace with it. My son was 2½ years old then. One day I was settling him down for an afternoon nap in my bedroom, when he said, 'I don't wanna sleep in this room.' I asked him why, and he said, 'This painting looks at me and tries to talk to me, and I don't like it.
Sorry for the different format.
