Poetry and dream…

Poetry and dream…

For the second weekend in a row I’ve made my way along the treelined Southbank in the spring rain to see the Lichtenstein exhibition at the Tate Modern… I still haven’t seen it. It’s a popular one. It doesn’t matter. I love this building. This space. I love roaming through the exhibits. Poetry and dream…

The hours melt away in this space. I developed a love of art galleries early in life. My father was a painter. My first husband was a painter. I’m just a tourist. Many hours spent over the years in the peaceful spaces of museum cafes and sculpture gardens waiting for them to finish staring at canvases, analysing brush strokes. It’s a more sensual and spiritual experience for me. Less about the actual art and more about the space. The vast, open, almost decadent spaces. The heavy smells of paint. The lighting. The silence.

A space to dream…

‘dreams are necessary to life’ ~ Anais Nin

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