At first I could only catch glimpses of you through the museum crowd. You were smaller than I expected, and darker—all greens, yellows and browns. Nothing special, I thought.
But then I got closer, and I could see your eyes. They seemed to follow me from side to side, as if you were alive and interested in me! My heart began to beat.
And then I was in front of you, and there it was— your famous smile! But were you smiling? I wasn't sure. I looked away, and back again, And now you seemed to look a little sad, like you were forcing that smile, for us. Day after day after day after day.
And then, I knew. That look in your eyes—it wasn't interest. It was boredom. It was the desire to slip into a dream. And in that world of dreams you might be free— no frame, no millions of staring eyes. And there, perhaps, you'd smile for real.
I could only imagine how beautiful that smile would be.