August 17, 2013

Dear stranger at the MIA,

I was about to leave the contemporary exhibit when I saw you.  Dark blue polo shirt, off-green pants, brown moccasins and the cutest curly brown hair.  You struck me as much as any artwork on display. (I wonder, are we all just performers?)

I couldn't say 'hi' because the relative silence of the museum atmosphere stifles that sort of interaction.  Unless it's a tour, in which case, by all means, the docent will drone on and then ask you for your baloney interpretation.  But we weren't on a tour.  No.  We were alone in one particular room for a long time.

Standing in the doorframe, I began sketching the wall featuring Roy Lichtenstein's Peace Through Chemistry I.   It was bright blue accent to the otherwise whiter-than-white walls.  Out of my periphery, I saw you make your way towards it.  Along the way, you checked your phone and I felt a brief moment of sadness.  

And then you sat down on the bench directly in front of the painting.  Directly in front of my line of vision.  Although we were at least 30 feet apart, and your back was turned, I thought we were sharing an intimate moment.  So, you entered my drawing-- and for the record I felt slightly creepy for doing it.  But you stayed there...a while.  I thought maybe you could hear my pencil scratching the paper because when I stopped, you got up.

I walked further into the exhibit, hoping to muster up the courage to say something.  Anything.  After a few more rooms, I realized it was futile.  So I left.

If for some bizarre reason you are reading this, please know I wanted to talk to you.  I really did.

Your secret admirer,


  1. Ohh, encountering beautiful strangers and not speaking to them is simultaneously the best and worst thing there is. It can bring disappointment, but it can also bring blog posts like this, haha.

    By the way, thank you so much for your insight on starting college! I hope to make the best of it, and I'll definitely keep a lookout for your "Dear incoming college freshmen" post. :)