The previous post is Hypothetically Speaking.
The next post is Shameless Plug.

Mattina Fredda (weekend in DC, part one) · Feb 22, 08:42 PM

I left my car in West Kingston at an unguarded lot. It was dark—quarter to eleven. At seven, with the dawn’s early light, I clambered out into Union Station.

A little bit of cold will set you to shiver, but too much more of it and there’s not time for the thermodynamics to drop your core temperature. I was still warm from the train-ride while each breath burned in my lungs. The sky was clear and the sun was on the rise. This is my kind of early morning.

Museums wouldn’t open for three hours, so I killed time walking around, then retreating to Starbucks when I found myself comparing the wind to this winter’s big blizzard. At ten I was crossing the threshold into the west building of the National Gallery of Art.

We very few early birds had the place to ourselves.

I wandered for two hours past Van Gogh, Degas, Rodin, and all those names I remember from high school humanities. Lo and behold, this stuff is beautiful. Stunningly.

Enough of that. It was the hard way that taught me not to trust art reproduced via photographery. And I was about to meetup with Joel, Josh, and Freddy.

[I cannot help myself—MORE PICTURES.]

* * *

  1. In this set we find an uncanny resemblance between Voltaire and Tom (at age 72). Remarkable! — chris    Feb 25, 06:03 PM    #

Name
E-mail
http://
Message
  Textile Help