MoMA

Yesterday for our day off, Sarah and I went off for a little date. We went to the MoMA (Museum of Modern Art) in San Francisco. Since we both took Art History our first semesters at Cal we decided to put what we learned to good use what professor Muller taught us. Honestly, there wasn't exactly one painting that I truly liked enough to pull out my polaroid and illegally snap a shot away. I saw my favorites, I considered the Rothko but decided against it once the security lady with the scary furrowed eyebrows gave me the evil eye. I cruised past the new exhibits, the old ones that I remembered from last year. I stood in the same spots I did last year when I went to check it out, thought for a few moments how much I've changed within the year that I last stood in that exact same place.

Photo Courtesy: Shwang

But there was one exhibit that did stay with me. It was some photographer who basically just photographed a bunch of headshots of an eclectic group of people, all different kinds - male, female, happy, miserable, wrinkled, youthful. As I stood in that room, surrounded by four walls of different strangers I wondered the story behind each person's photograph. The reason for that scar under their eye... the explanation for the dirt stained on their shirt collar. I wish I knew, I wish I could hear their stories, and share it with the world. "It's the ordinary people that make this world turn each and every day."

Everyone has a story.