On a bedroom wall in our Chicago condo I hung art, or what I thought was art when I bought it. It’s round and metal and has some little mirrors on it. In the few years it has been there I realize I don’t know art. I’m guessing it’s not art because I no longer like it. Now I think it looks silly and I was silly to buy it and I don’t know why I did.
Since I’m accustomed to it, I haven’t replaced it but think I really should.
Today I saw bubbles of light on that bedroom’s ceiling. Prancing and dancing lights. I hadn’t noticed when the sun shines through a window onto this silly thing, its mirrors bounce baby sun balls around the room like happy Tinkerbells. It’s lively. Kind of artsy.