First you get admission her permission is required, framed against the wall are those strokes you once desired. Admired, divinely inspired with his hands you can't compete. My favorite piece of his and yet he left it incomplete. But I appreciate the process, with the progress I obsess. The paint splatters, eraser marks, it's a fascinating mess. The finished piece is nothing but an educated guess. But his work is so elaborate, its definitely made to impress. These urges I suppress, to unhook that velvet rope, and step even closer than anyone could ever hope. In her walls she's confined, most of it within her mind. I think she would actually appreciate it more if she were blind. But I'm alone in her gallery, asking the auctioneer how much, and they point at the sign that says "please do not touch"