4804. One day, toward closing time
in a museum, I don't recall which one; I found myself stopping exactly half-
way between the paintings, which were hung on a long expanse of gray
velvet-covered wall.
4805. I would look at a small
section of the velvet, skip past the next painting, and then proceed to another
section of velvet between two other paintings. The paintings were those huge
black ones in which all you can see is darkness, glare from the lights, and
occasionally an elbow or knee emerging from shadows.
4806. After looking at so many
large black paintings, even the frames of which were hard work to look at, it
was kind of a pleasure to look at the gray velvet.
4807. This kind of viewing was
upsetting, however, to the guards who immediately became suspicious and asked
politely if they could "help" me. When I replied that I didn't need
any help, they would continue to eye me strangely and were only happy when I
went on to another room.
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