Every time I walked a foot or two in either direction, this sculpture changed. The backdrop. The colors. The shadows. I must have looked silly walking back and forth in front of it... letting the frames change. The bridge, then the buildings, then back to the ballpark. Architecture, commerce, national pastime.
Admiring it directly, I thought about the face coming to life with color, breaking out of the grays. Moving to the left, I saw that there were already colors in the grays... but more shadows. To the right, the sculpture shone more... but too brightly to look at for too long.
Back and forth I paced in front of this big giant colorful head on the bayfront. I was tired. My mind was running a million miles a minute for days. For just a tiny moment, I was a little girl looking at something pretty. Something I wished I would have created. From pieces of colored tissue glued to paper. Or broken tiles set on a wall. Or glass shards melted into clay.
Gratitude for the moment.
Then back to the parking garage and on home.