Dapple — Heavyweight Crewneck

I like going to a gallery alone because I can turn left without having a conversation about it. The room on the right may be historically important. The room on the left has a color I can see from the doorway. Today that is enough information.

I have dressed for my own enjoyment, in the patterned crewneck and the trousers with the rather decisive shape. There is a painting here that I have seen before. I do not remember its date, the circumstances of its making, or most of the sensible things written beside it. I remember wanting to stand in front of it for longer.

At first I look at the whole thing. Then I notice a corner. Someone has spent a remarkable amount of effort on that corner, despite its having very little to do with the subject everybody is presumably meant to be admiring. I become loyal to it. Two people arrive, read the label and leave. The corner and I continue our afternoon.

There are other rooms. In one, I like the bench more than the art, which seems worth acknowledging privately. In another I change my mind three times. Nobody is waiting to establish whether I have understood it correctly.

On the way out I return to the first painting. The attendant recognizes the return journey and moves their chair slightly. I stand in a different place this time. The corner is still good. Something near the top, however, has started to compete.

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