Tonight I met someone from last year’s odyssey through the arts world. It was one of the people I remembered for being different, the relative outsider, the one who was responsible for a gallery telling its story to the wider world.

It was in June I think when I met her, and she was then about to take on that job, in that gallery. The first encounter went well, and since then I looked forward to meeting her. Then there was the time I decided to stop my gallery-hopping, a time marked by that sense of ennui (or what we’d call “sawa” in the vernacular) and she moved on.

I was glad to meet her again tonight, at an arts event, and she was with an organization that deserves to be more well-known (though, in this context, I am not too keen on helping it be so). I felt a bit of relief–here was a reminder of what I thought myself to be, the confident relative outsider.

Though what changed was that, like her, I moved on. Or did I?

The event that night focused on children’s book illustration. What came to mind was a face from nearly a decade ago. And of a dream we once had, of working on a children’s book together. And I was back to where I started. Oddly enough, this person had her first group show here.
Now on queue is Everything But The Girl’s “Missing.” I don’t feel the same emotions for her, but that part of my story reminds me that sometimes it is best to go back and appreciate how much has changed for the both of us.


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