7 in the morning I grab my backpack and fix my belongings pulling the zipper around to the other side . 30 minutes to drive to Amanda's house . I take the keys and walk downstairs pulling the bag over my shoulder. The toast pops out of the toaster and I hold it before walking out the door and locking it. The drive over to Amanda's house wasn't too long this time , less traffic than usual. Then again I don't drive this early on the weekends only for work. As I pull into her driveway I see her squirm through and close the door carefully behind her before running to the passengers seat.
"Hey Natalia." She holds a small cup of coffee in front of me as she sips hers. I nod and sip some from the cup. "Hey are you ready ?" I bite into my toast and see her nod before checking her bag for the tickets . Our car ride over to the museum consisted of Amanda talking about her adventures with her boyfriend and how she missed him even though half of the time we were talking she was also texting him. But I shouldn't say anything I wouldn't know how it feels like to be in her position.
I take a pamphlet and read the words centered at the top, "Los Angeles County Museum of Art". The famous light poles that are plastered on every Instagram account makes the encounter very weird. Only because they stand in front of the aisles of lamps to take photos and leave without actually going into the Museum. "Damn I didn't get a map." Amanda pats her pockets trying to check if she mistaken herself. I hand her my map. "You can have mine I won't need it when we walk in." Amanda smiles and looks through the pamphlet as I guide her in and hand our tickets to be scanned. "Welcome to LACMA enjoy. Please no flash photography." I nod and hold my camera as I walk to the first room holding Amanda's hand.
"Wow." The paintings were spread out with benches centered in the middle attracting the older adults who enjoy art from a distance. I stand by the second one reading the history about the painting. "This one was done with oil paint look at how you can see the brush strokes ." I stare at the detail of the painting including the frame the artist used. Never seizes to amaze me how someone has the idea and gets creative to paint it on a canvas to express themselves. That's how I try and express myself through photography. My parents think I won't find a job if I continue taking pictures but it's my passion.
Amanda walks away to the next room reading the little plaques uninterested in the very intricate paintings. I walk slowly and take a picture of majority of them and of people around trying to gain creativity. " This is quite a beautiful painting don't you think?" A tall man with tight black jeans, boots , white t shirt and colorful unbuttoned shirt stands next to me . He pushes back his hair and reveals his tattoos looking at the painting. Unsure whether he was talking to me I look at the painting and step away slowly and wait. A faint laugh leaves his mouth and he smiles before he holds his phone and drinks his water. "I like this one. It's different. " He turns his head to me and stares back at the painting. I nod.
"This artist apparently died after being diagnosed with a mental illness." I frown. I look at the painting again . "You can really tell from the color of paint they used that they were hurting inside." My voice trails off and the man turns his head to me closing the top of his water bottle. "Do you paint ?" His voice is deep. "I take pictures but I do draw sometimes . Maybe paint but I don't have any time or money to spend on more supplies." I blush .
"Wow that's really cool. " He smiles. "Oh by the way I'm Harry." He shakes my hand and I return the gesture. "Hello Harry . I'm Natalia." Harry smiles and walks guiding me to the next room. "Do you always come here ?" I shake my head . "Not really none of my friends like to actually look at paintings and admire them. Have you?" I look at his unbuttoned shirt with the colors and the pattern then at his tattoos . "I do actually. It's nice to relax from anything stressful so I come here." He clears his throat. I blush and look for Amanda who is sitting at a bench in the corner leaning back sleeping for who knows how long. I giggle .
