I will forever associate museums with The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt: “Yet the museum always felt like a holiday; and once we were inside with the glad roar of tourists all around us, I felt strangely insulated from whatever else the day might hold in store.” Within these walls, everything is still. You can hear your own shoes clacking against the floor. You drift between rooms and each one has something new. Yet you don’t feel crowded. You feel like you can breathe in this large open space. You walk at your own pace. There’s no such thing as too slow or too fast.
And everyone in here shares something unsaid. We’re here; we’re in on it; we’re part of something. We’re connected, without any obligation. And at the same time, we can be alone. Our own thoughts fill our heads and we occupy our own space. And when those thoughts go stale, we have only to look up for a spark, and our minds go swirling once more.
There’s something about public places where you can be alone that I find soothing. They have a particular kind of feeling so unique from any other kind of place that it almost feels like you’re in another world. It’s like time stops, and there’s no urgency to “take advantage” of that and no rush to “get ahead.” You can simply be there, just as everyone else is doing.
Today I visited the Philadelphia Museum of Art and spent most of my time walking through the special exhibits Fabulous Fashion: From Dior’s New Look to Now and Little Ladies: Victorian Fashion Dolls and the Feminine Ideal.
PS: I’m giving Blogmas a go! Let me know in the comments if there’s anything you’d like to see on the blog (ू•ᴗ•ू❁)