|Left to right: Ms Nholl, Ms. Eva and Ms. Elna|
Better forget this.
The "sepia-toned" streets, as what Ms. Elna fondly called them, proved to be a good host for another array of conversations- at least this time they were sensible and dramatic, and funny. Contrary to the noises on the streets adjunct to these, our giggles were the only disturbing decibels on this neighborhood. Except, of course, for some few honking cars. We cared less though - after all this was our night - and their whims or concerns would just aggravate the reason of such behavior. We had a common purpose - to watch the gallery of Kublai. And this walk, our ticket.
This was like the fourth or fifth time I was on this place. And the works of art would just give me the same reactions- amazement, envy, and inspiration. The mute boredom inside me seemed to echo in those arts. Gradually convinced, I'd resolve to do a work like this. Again. And again I would forget it upon leaving the shadow of the eagle graced upon its entrance. Those monuments beside the streets just before the entrance were the silent witness of the visitor's purpose: to be lost in art or maybe just to kill time. In any ways or means, these arts will always leave something - and at some point - will be crucial to one's life.