Bright hues flood my world,
And as I look around, more spill into my vision.
A kaleidoscope of hand-painted brushstrokes,
Not trapped on canvas, not confined to the inside of a museum–
But exposed to the neighbors and people around the city.

An oasis for our thirst,
For the ones whose desert lives have been deprived of nourishment–
Not one of us was there alone.

I turned to a wall filled with mirrors,
And saw a better reflection.
I turned to the wall,
Which welcomed all in the world’s many languages,
And I felt that I belonged.

The tour ended,
We drove home to our previous lives,
But this time with a newly quenched thirst.