Romance
I glance behind us to make sure we’re alone. I ask Mia, “Hug me—a hug for a vintage, romantic picture? We can call it ‘Sid and Mia at the Rotunda.’”
We embrace momentarily, but her concern breaks my little league magic. “There is no camera.”
“No problem,” I reply. “There’s no film.”
Passionate Source of Dreams
On our ascent to the second level, we’re so quiet you could hear a pin drop or shoe squeak. With so many steps, our climb seems to take forever. We hold hands like a young couple on their second date, taking their first walk in an anxious search for a moment of truth, a passionate source of any young lover’s dreams.
Standing at the balcony’s circular brass railing, we look down at the lower level. Pillars frame the reception area, temple-like. I still can’t explain why the Institute displays so much pottery. I doubt that Egyptian pottery lends credence to the Institute. Do these artifacts bring value-added sophistication? Is the Director a would-be historian, still inspired by a freshman Art Appreciation course? It doesn’t matter. Over-sized clay jugs add authenticity to the scene—great pharaohs used to smash beautiful pottery to celebrate broken records of the non-vinyl kind. Times certainly change. No pharaohs, no slaves, only survivors—directors, keyboard jockeys, every underling in between. This pottery remains intact. If you want broken pottery, try an archeological dig. If you like beautiful pottery, visit the Institute. To move your spirit, find a place somewhere in between.
I’m getting anxious. I hope I don’t spill my wine.