The Metropolitan Museum of Art is huge, you could be there for 3 hours and not see even a quarter of the place. I ran out of stamina for looking at things before I ran out of things to look at. I loved the period rooms, the way everything was set up and I could almost imagine someone living there. I’ve always wondered if I’m in the wrong place. And I wonder if the place that I belong is in the future or in the past. Maybe it is the backdrop of a Jane Austen novel, or maybe it is in some Big Brother type society.
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