Soulmates, sunflowers, hot air balloons, ballet, wildfire and music.
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EXCERPT:
"Why do you always call me sunflower?" She looks as though she's desperate for the answer, staring into my soul with so much sincerity in her words.
I smile to mysel...
It's currently 3am but I wanted to get the second chapter out, thank you for all the love.
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I feel as though calling the experience at The Met a 'disaster' would be a stretch, which wasn't what I expected.
It went surprisingly well, at least for maybe the first two hours we were in there.
Technically the only two hours we were in there.
But I shouldn't complain, because just being able to visit is a birthday present enough in itself.
She didn't even make a fuss or ask to leave at any point.
So, the reason we did leave, well we were politely asked to 'vacate the premises'.
Personally, I was having an amazing time, everything was so beautiful.
I've always been into romanticism and renaissance, whether that be art or literature. I'm a sucker for it.
Esme on the other hand not so much. So we swiftly moved through the rooms until we reached the real reason I was there.
To see the 'Water Lilies' collection of oil paintings by Monet.
Beautiful, angelic, and something of a dream.
Really seeing the artwork in front of me, close enough to touch, I don't understand it but it made me feel something.
I love art, our apartment is filled with it. I just can't do it myself.
I tried it all, printing, drawing, painting, photography. Everything.
And that, that I can call a disaster.
So now I think it's much safer for me to admire from afar rather than trying to create my own.
In the short hour, I stood admiring his work, completely encapsulated by the fine detail, in awe of every brushstroke, I managed to lose Esme.
Or she managed to lose me.
And rather than having to find her myself, I was found.
By security.
And I was requested to escort my 'friend' out of the building.
Apparently, Esme was more into the sculptures than the paintings, to say the very least.
Yes, she thought it would be a brilliant idea to take a few photos for her Instagram.
Those photographs consisting of her practically molesting the old, fragile, marble statues.
I did have to admit though, the photos were somewhat funny, and even if I had tried, I wouldn't be able to be mad at her.
So now here we sit, in Michaels French-inspired café, eating pastries and drinking an extreme amount of coffee - enough to have us bouncing off the walls.
