There’s
something majestic about entering a museum; an awe that slides down the spine,
slow like honey.
Like nectar for bees, you are captivated by the cocoon of artefacts that embrace you as you enter. No longer are you the person who entered so innocently a moment before. Now you are an ethereal spirit, floating mindlessly from chamber to chamber, soaking, absorbing, drinking in the vast array of precious objects; a banquet for the eyes, on which the mind will later feast once these wonders have been transposed into the consciousness. Infinite worlds and mysteries dissolve and seep beneath your skin, taking you to the unknown, the marvellous, the distasteful, the violent, the abstract and the gentile. Nowhere else can you lose yourself in this way. Nowhere else can you breathe in the past so deeply. It pervades you, all of you, in a way you will never forget.
Like nectar for bees, you are captivated by the cocoon of artefacts that embrace you as you enter. No longer are you the person who entered so innocently a moment before. Now you are an ethereal spirit, floating mindlessly from chamber to chamber, soaking, absorbing, drinking in the vast array of precious objects; a banquet for the eyes, on which the mind will later feast once these wonders have been transposed into the consciousness. Infinite worlds and mysteries dissolve and seep beneath your skin, taking you to the unknown, the marvellous, the distasteful, the violent, the abstract and the gentile. Nowhere else can you lose yourself in this way. Nowhere else can you breathe in the past so deeply. It pervades you, all of you, in a way you will never forget.
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