|Butterfly Area at the Natural History Museum|
It is a place of wonder and imagination,beauty and curator skills; simply one fascinating thing after another. Mostly, however, it is a place of "please, thank you, let me get that door for you, pardon me, smiles, easy conversations with others, and a whole lot of common courtesy" that doesn't make its way much outside their walls.
One leaves the museum world of perfection and grace and re-enters a scene of name-calling, rudeness, talking over the other person, viciousness and snarly, non-existent manners.
|Green butterflies 'blurring" around while others cooperated and stood still|
It struck us that museums are photos of imagination; snaps of a perfect world of detail and realism. It isn't a copy of our real life world at all. Sadly.
I want to go back if for no other reason than to enjoy "nice" frozen in time so it can wash over you like a warm wave. The butterflies have no fear as the signs say, don't hurt them. No one did. Kids held out their fingers as perches and some were rewarded. It was a gentle slice of life. Perhaps, sadly, one that lives on in a world of dioramas and tableau vivants.