Entering for the first time, we saw a room, big and new, that smelled of newness and spare furniture; its most conspicuous feature was a series of brightly colored tiles covering most of the back wall. These followed no pattern my eyes could make out, but I was fascinated by them: it was as though, even then, my heart knew that art itself resides in the stories we imagine as much or more as any story explicitly told.

Is That A Work of Art?

She asked me, “So —
Is that a work of art?”

I said I thought it was,
Most certainly.

She said, “It’s broken —
Even kind of random –“

“But broken’s beautiful
To those
Who see”

Photo credit: © Elena Egorova | Dreamstime.com