The Light Behind the Storm.

the light in the art gallery.

NOTE: THE ART GALLERY USED IN THIS BOOK IS FAKE. DONT BOTHER GOOGLING IT AND ALL.

•••
We met in an Art Gallery.

Giovanni Art Gallery to be precise. It was owned by a man called Giovanni da Giovanni. 

Mr Giovanni squared decided to name his art gallery after his favorite name:

Giovanni.

Giovanni Art Gallery was a place were known and unknown artists alike could submit there paintings or sculptures, in hopes of it being displayed to the thousands of people that walk into the gallery, day in, day out.

Of course, this made the picking process incredibly tough.

Your painting/ sculpture had to be incredibly good to get a spot at the gallery.

They had a certain criteria for art works that they allow in their gallery. Some of the criteria include:

1. The artist must have supernatural powers
2. The artist must have made the art work using a bucket of unicorn tears.
3. The artist must buy their paint from Venus.
4. The artist must fill a form about their details 1,000,000,000,000,000,000  years before submitting artwork.
5. The artist must not exist.

So yeah, the gallery had a lot of pretty standard criteria that were easy to pass.

The problem?

Giovanni da Giovanni.

Giovanni squared was extremely picky about what went up on the walls of his gallery.
So he looks through the paintings that are chosen to go on the walls, and if he doesn't like it, then it's shredded.

You heard me.

Giovanni squared shreds the paintings.

Imagine putting all your blood and sweat into a beautiful painting just to have an Italian asshole with a repetitive name toss it into a shredding machine.

The sculptures didn't have it any better.

If the sculpted work isn't admired, it's broken down and thrown away.

If you think that's sad, wait till you hear this.

I've been sending five paintings to Giovanni squared' art gallery each year.

I've been doing this for five years.

So twenty five of my paintings have gone down the shredder.

I cry when I think of it.

So just when I was giving up, and finally deciding that painting isn't for me, he came.

Let's start this from the beginning, shall we?

I was walking through Giovanni squared' art gallery, looking at all the paintings that had already been stuck up there, silently wishing that I'd be up there one day.

But I had begun to lose hope. All my hard work had been tossed into a shredder and probably through a garbage chute as well. I wasn't ready for another heartbreak.