LACMA
two women pushing strollers roll up behind after their conversation was listenable for a few hundred yards:
"Mmm. Rothko. That's what I was going for with my paintings. My husband saw them and said what the hell is this? and I said, I'm trying to do Rothko! Not good."
next a woman with her hands clasped behind her holding back an embroidered purse walked up and looked at the information about the painting and then walked all the way around so as not to interrupt my view.
On the walk away from the building...looking down... in time to watch my right foot, delicately sandal-ed, submerge into a loose mud. of course the left was in too. the only thing as magical as that feeling was the pompadoured fellow that was standing in the street holding a ping pong paddle up to his check as my car passed.
