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I haunt the gallery.
Reveling in the silence and the acceptable
solitude it offers.
Here I walk with my head held high,
to revere the masters.
I find myself alone in the archives,
the silence is pure and as comforting
as an embrace.
I come here to think,
to organise my thoughts or to quiet them.
This place gives me calm in a world of turmoil.
On the days when the pain is more,
I set my mind free in the gallery halls.
Beauty in paint and print lift my spirit;
the outermost layer of my self,
and set it above pain and discomfort.
These brief hours of pleasure
will carry mind and spirit through,
while my body falls apart.