Exhibit Hall

Flourescent lighting has become what I see when I close my eyes. The dull hum illuminating what seems to be empty halls. Once looking like a pristine museum has succumbed to the monotony of the custodian who resided there. Pictures have faded and sculptures were left cracked. Yet day in and day out the floors are swept and the brass fixtures are polished to reflective brilliance. At night the routine is once again done and then come morning is left ready for a whole new chorus of messes and smudges. Yet day in and day out with little recognition he does his job. Always with a smile with eyes concealing an aura of euphoric glow. If you still your self for long enough you can even hear him whistling. Few wander into his closet and are merely content with his nightly doings. Inside the thick mahoghany door lie a world beyond recognition; one of murals, sketches, and sculptures reflecting vivid color and life. With each stroke and curve beauty is immortalized. Few have seen and few have asked, and he longs to let the beauty be held.