It must be the dim lights, I think - they bring out in me all the reflection and carefully crafted thoughts I have kept tucked away since my last visit. The painter in my mind makes careful strokes with colours that are visible regardless of the dark around me. It is true, I usually entertain myself by modifying the fairly innocuous previews that are shown, but there is for some reason a heightened reaction to whatever I see. Be it pathos or bathos, I refuse nothing, and champion the splendour that shows itself for those few minutes. Almost always, I find the experience cathartic. Although it is itself far removed from art and beauty and whatever else I care to muse on, these are the very things that are given strength, and I exit with these notions feeling validated and strengthened. It must be the bombast and majesty of it all, which is something, I tell myself, that I would do well to pay more attention to, even if I know it will be forgotten till the next visit.