Standing at the Rijksmuseum
we find ourselves part of a lesson,
a lesson by a master in his craft.
Our company seven men
some look at us some look away
while Dr. Tulp, our eighth man
digs into the elefant in the room.

The cool body lies bare
like light were coming out of it
reflecting on the faces of the more curious,
leaving in shadows the uninterested ones.
The dead arm opened wide,
some lesson on tendons or bones.
Three hundred and fifty years
mute the master's words so clear
make the master's brushes so loud.

It was a time of studied ignorance,
of white collars on shallow knowledge
when my favourite of the Old Masters was born.

Retract.
Step back into our reality
observe the beatiful museum
for we are before one of its finest pieces.
But it's hard.
It ***** you in.
Something about the crepuscular glow of the body
makes you get stuck in it.

Observe the perfect composition,
the diverse faces.
It's like a photograph taken at a random instant
yet so deliberate,
so randomly deliberate,
so deliberatly random.
But step back,
look at the whole thing,
it's just
so
beautiful.
You could say it's just 3D
masterfully represented in 2D
but it is not,
there's something more to it.
Something you could call extradimensional.
It's like if the artist knew the algorithms our mind follows
and knew the exact input needed for the desired output,
beauty,
art,
even shock.

Let's move on to the next painting,
but don't let this image fade away,
let it rest,
let it click,
and let it grow
in you.