#Rijks Museum 5: po raz pierwszy trochę inaczej

I try to manually focus my camera at that stupid silver cup, but it keeps on being blurred so I just give up and delete all photos I've been taking for last minute. I straighten up and glance up in the hunt of my new "victim". At that point I'm completely exhausted and starving. I've been there for about an hour but it seems like ages. Tired and bored, only I can think of is getting out from here and going home. But first, I have to, I just have to, finish sightseeing this last one room full of clocks and sad dark rococo paintings.

I move right, being entirely unaware that something is pulling my attention. I notice a wildly dressed obese guy staring at me from the painting. Holding my camera even more tightly, I lift it up and take one quick photo. Then, I open my eyes, lower down my arms and cock my head. And then... I see him. He's just walked into the room. In a mustard cardigan and washed-out blue jeans. But not his clothes caught my attention. His eyes. So mesmerizing. The sea of azure and bright smirk feel in my chest as 100 Watt lightening. I don't think he notices me. But I do. I notice him.

As he walks into the room, just in front of me, I move a little back and go to see another painting. I don't even know what it is. I'm not paying any attention, all I can think about right now, is he. He approaches a cabinet with silver cups. The same cups which I couldn't photograph. I look behind at him and then quickly again at the painting. I try to take a photo, but I don't see anything in a viewfinder. However, I can see his reflection in a small screen.

Next, I move towards a showcase where I see an unique box packed with thick-looking books. Maybe encyclopedias. I'm not sure. After taking a next photo, I check the result on the small screen. I can see his blurred silhouette in the background. I look across the thick showcase's glass to find him again. He's looking at big gloomy painting. I lift my camera up to make so closer photos of him, but then I give up. I'm not that kind of girl. I'm not a stalker. And he's a complete stranger.

As I think about it, he sees me and for one second we keep an eye contact. Then, he moves closer. When I realize, he is coming to see the books, I chicken out in embarrassment and turn around.

In front of me, there is narrow long painting. It's beautiful. But still, I can't focus on anything except my pounding heart beat and his presence behind my back.

After a second, or maybe five, I hear soft exhaust and feel delicate touch of his arm on mine. We stare together at colorful painting. Somehow, now I can see it all. It is a peacock. With his head turned right and remarkable feathers. It depicts January with the sign of Aquarius. In the same room, there are three more paintings like this one. December, February and September.

The longer I stare at the painting, the more aware of him I am. And more embarrassed. I try not to burst out laughing, but I can't help myself and smile widely. This situation is awkwardly cute, but at the same time ridiculous. It is so obvious! I know he is here and he also feels my presence. The tension between us is almost touchable. We both are acting like childish idiots, trying to hide our shy smiles and attraction toward each other. 

I peek at him once again and smile. He glances at me and smiles too. I turn my head back at the painting, acting as I'm  incredibly interested in colorful peacock. 

It's like a dance. I move one step closer, he moves one back. And over and over again. 

I feel extremely weird. My brain works one hundred times faster than usual, I'm thinking about speaking up or just doing something. Anything! 

- Interesting one, huh? - At first I think it's just my imagination. But then, I realize that he actually said that. He spoke up. To me. I can hear his subtle accent, but can't really recognize it.

- Yeah, pretty unique - I say back. Shyly and softly.

We both turn at each other at the same time. And smile. Just smile and stare at each other. Unexpectedly, I hear my own chuckle. 

- He painted more - I point at the picture.- On the other side of room there's also September if I remember correctly.

It's the most stupid thing I could think of, but suddenly all the tension is gone and I can breath again. He just smiles politely and turns his head toward the painting. Now I can not only admire the masterpiece of art, but also his distinct profile.

I smirk and grab my camera to take one final photo, just before going out of the room. We've been "admiring" the picture for too long. I know he has just went in, and I'm going to go the other way. So that's our goodbye. I won't ever see him again. He will be just my one gleam of memory. And that's ok. That's good. 

He takes out his phone and also takes one photo. 

Maybe I won't even remember him after a while. Maybe I will have this one image in my head. The image of majestic peacock. And maybe I should say something. Like "have a nice stay in Amsterdam" or whatever. Or maybe I should stay longer in the museum and sightsee it with him. Maybe. But I don't do that. I just walk away. And when I turn my head back, he's already gone. 

Z takiej zastawy herbata musi smakować jeszcze lepiej.

Nie wiem, co ja mam ze sklepieniami, ale po prostu je uwielbiam.

Koperta na listy. I aż mnie zazdrość zżera, że należała kiedyś do jakiegoś gościa.

Plac Dam.

Lampa - kot. A w nocy mu się oczy świecą ;)

Ten "gnat" ma jakiś metr długości... kto by utrzymał w rękach to bydlę?

Gdyby ktoś się zastanawiał, to są tabakierki. Takie trochę z przepychem, ale kiedyś takie były modne.

Nie ma to jak odstrzelić sobie taką "tapetę" na ścianie. 

PS. Z góry, z serca za wszystkie błędy przepraszam i niedogodności czytania moich angielskich wypocin, ale chciałam zrobić coś innego i bardziej kreatywnego z tymi Rijk'sowymi postami. Bo opisywanie eksponatów jest równie ciekawe co późniejsze czytanie tych opisów. Więc tutaj moja mała sesja twórcza. I nie od dziś wiadomo, że mam wybujałą imagination (nawet nie wiecie jakie to frustrujące, kiedy brakuje mi polskich słów! albo na odwrót, angielskich!). W sensie, wyobraźnię. Mam wybujałą wyobraźnię. To było to słowo. Ale czy aż tak wybujałą? ;)