Strangers came and went like the sun rose and set
The museum never truly devoid of several characters Gazing into the countless stories the brush strokes told Love and war and hatred was stirred awake
Frames handed reminders of pain and life
To each person who dreamt long enough
To each person who found their own reflection
And thought to themselves
Of the life they live
Of those they love or hate
Of what they mean in the world or to themselves