Transform

It feels different to look at art when you're sad. The picture weighs heavily on the soul. Every strokes of the brush painfully grips at the heart. Whether the picture becomes more special or less intriguing is not a matter of fact. But there is so much more conviction with the meaning that you have worked up for the piece.

I went to a Place of Religious Breakage. That's what I'll proceed to call it because I refuse even to recognize if for what it is. I had thought that I wanted to be a part of it while I still have the time. I had thought that I could be part of something that I always wanted to know better and understand despite my contempt for it.

So I went there. It was close but its adjoining building - a museum - remained open. I didn't like the way the lady at the counter disregarded me and my inquiries when some foreigners lined next to me. I was serious with my intentions and to be blown off like that by my own color - for tourists! - seemed rather cruel. I had to wait patiently.

I was then directed to an office, wherein I was "interviewed" (or interrogated) by three persons in authority. I didn't mind that they didn't seem to get me, that they were suspicious of my intentions, that they laughed at all my answers as though trying to get in touch with something that I have lost is the most absurd thing in the world, that they thought I was looking for a job when I'm not and that they put me down and mocked me and told me that I was a little way over my head but I didn't bat an eye because damn it, I wanted it!

And when it seemed that all hopes will be lost, that when I easily understood that there's no way that a place like that, viewed by world populace as a welcoming home, is ever going to be much of a home to me, I had to leave, more disappointed than angry. Made me feel stupid, actually, that I had to do that. An incredibly big step in my estimation and all I got in return was a crushed spirit.

That's when I saw the art.





I wish I could say something profound about it. It just felt different. Love, Sexuality, and Transformation. The first time that I ever felt an aching longing to love and to be loved. That was the painful part. That was what broke my heart.