it was never meant to be anything special. i would go look at the art and leave.
i would take the time to listen to something inside me, not outside of me.
museums are quiet like that, introspective. they don’t require you to speak when you don’t want to.
Then you greeted me at the entrance with a big smile and the friendliness and warmth that only some people can radiate, some special people, like you.
it has been a few days now and i still think about you. i wonder who you are.
someone standing in a gallery all day and yet so pleasant, so attentive and so radiant.
i should have looked at the art, but for a moment i looked at you instead, from afar. the person you were talking to was lighting up with a smile just in that moment, thanking you for your explanation. a soft smile on your lips, but your eyes letting through something way stronger, a bit of sun, i’m sure of it.
the weather outside was pouring down, you’ve seen it. so i took a moment to sit with the rain. i took a moment to breath and this time you were the one watching me.
i might never know what you make of me but in that moment i realised that we share something. we are delighted by the world around us and we see people through eyes of kindness and gratitude.
how lucky we are to spend a moment like that? how lucky we are to meet strangers that seem like home.
i sit here and wonder what shaped you?
what made you fall in love with art or this job? or is this job just a job?
let me tell you what i hope your life looked like, cause as a writer of fiction it’s my favourite thing to do.
i hope you were a little boy unafraid of the word ‘art’. someone who wanted to use all the coloured pencils, because the world had shown him so many colours that he couldn’t just stick with a few. i hope that when someone asked you about your favourite colour you had to think for a moment because there were too many.
i hope that when you grew older you had a friend group that was never afraid to explore. one that helped you build an identity without shame, one that went to flea markets and bars with live music. and i hope you fell in love with the quiet moments too. the ones when the world stands still and all you have are your own thoughts.
i know the world in one’s own mind can be hard.
to be honest, i worry.
when i meet people as delightful as you it always hits me that the kindest people are usually the ones that went down the hardest road. that the people who can stand in a museum and show up with a genuine smile for every person passing and meet everyones questions with kindness and curiosity, are the people who experienced how much a smile can change someone. how much a question met with kindness can shape ones identity and how a question met with disdain can break ones identity. for we all carry hope but only some of us are willing to let it shine through. only some of us are willing to carry the hope out into the world.
maybe it is hope that i would describe you as. hope that my generation builds a world as kind as this. hope that one day i can find myself in a place as you appear to be, with love for the everyday, open eyes for what is happening around, a smile and happiness, curious when things aren’t what we believed they would be. maybe somewhere along the way we learn that the conversations of daily life, the acts of kindness and the slow moments are actually what life is about.
painters paint what they find meaningful. i am a writer, i write about the places and humans that i believe to be meaningful. so instead of drawing a portrait of you, making a sketch of your every step, i write about you. i write about you, cause on that day you were meaningful to me.
a loving note from a stranger
ohhh and yes the stranger in question got to read this too 🫶🏼✨