I open the plastic overlap a little and peek in and it’s just blank walls. Whiter than white. Blanker than blank. Just like me. But this is a fresh start. In a week or two, this room will house something new—something I’ve never seen before. Just like me. I stand there until the security guard from the adjacent armor room taps me lightly on the shoulder. I say, “Sorry,” but I don’t really mean it. I’ve been to this museum so many times and I’ve never been as moved as this—by something so ordinary. A blank room. A man with a ladder. The smell of fresh paint. Construction.
