one small plaque at the end of the long room. "Did I miss the show?" he asked. "Not at all, but it is not alarge show, it is made of one simple piece" the old man smiled, "I'll take you to it". The young man startedto open his mouth to speak as he glanced around the bare walls. "So", the old man said interrupting, "youlove art?" the young man contemplated what the man said and was trying to determine how to answer ashe turned to follow his elder guide. "or at least used to" the old man added. The young man knew thatwas true, but still it was an odd thing for the old man to say. The walk was slow for the old man seemed towalk with stiff legs, and slightly bent as if with a sore back, still he managed to speak with ease "Yes, it isa beautiful thing to see art, but that is only what has been captured by the artist, as they say, beauty is inthe eye of the beholder - and if one opens his eyes wide enough, even a dark room can have beauty – much like life wouldn’t you say" the old man inquired. ‘Perhaps” he said, humoring the old man. The twomen reached the sole piece of art on the wall, a simple wood plaque, on which was carved – “Art is not just that which you go to see in a gallery, it is in fact life itself, yet the art of life is not merely in living, butin finding art in every glance, in every smell, in every breeze, and with each day. Denied of this, an entirelife can pass without ever having been lived."The young man stood frozen, ashamed that as he read tears welled in his eyes, in some way the wordsbefore him hit him like a blow to his gut, not just words but a reflection of what he had allowed his life tobecome. Glancing around he searched for his companion, who was nowhere to be found. The room wasempty, he turned to read the simple plaque again which now appeared to him to be a much more brilliantmix of browns, hints of red, yellow, he could even detect a mild scent of the wood. He gazed inamazement at the plaque whose words had changed and now read “Choose to not just live but toembrace the art of life, and so now begin.”He stepped back amazed, what a fantastic piece of art! Spinning around to look again for the old man stillnot in sight, he turned back towards the wall again to find the plaque now gone, only the white wallremained. He startled, and stepped back, fearful for a moment, then he smiled – the message, and theday’s events became clear. The plaque was gone, but he did not need it, nor pondered where it went, hegrasped its message, and he knew his life was never to be the same. He still had goals, he still hadaspirations, but he now knew how empty life had been when those same aspirations were not just a partof his life, but became the whole of his life. The old man was gone, and he somehow knew he would notreturn, the lesson was taught, and for the young man the learning just beginning. He now saw that thesetting sun cast the most beautiful shadow on the wall, his eyes looked around the room , on the wallswere wonderful shadows, reflections, the floor a beautiful maple wood, glowing warmly. He walked to thedoor, slowly, admiring every shadow, every knot in the wood, every reflection. His hand felt the brassdoor handle, and he felt the coldness, and smoothness of the brass, as he opened the door. Before himwas a world that had not changed, a world still full of light, of darkness, warmth, cold, compassion, loveand hurt, but it remained within him to see the art and beauty in everything life would bring forth. Indeedto seek out the beauty life had to offer even when that beauty was reluctant to be found. Certainly hewould not always succeed; after all he was just beginning to learn the art of living. He took a deep breath,making certain to detect the various smells the fall air had to offer. He staggering a bit from dizziness andrealized he had been taking many deep breaths. He grinned when he noticed the path he had passedover on his way in was built of cobblestones, with grass growing between the stones. He reached downand ran his hands over the grass, stood, and stepped onto the stones, he felt as though he was a childagain, and started to laugh, he walked down the path admiring every flower, the settings sun, the breeze,and grass, and as he reached the end of the path he turned and looked back. The house was old, andbroken down in many ways, but he saw that even the peeling paint was beautiful. "Thank you old man" hewhispered. He turned not towards the bus stop, but the other way, today, he would walk home, for therewas so much yet to see.As the young man walked away the suns final rays for the day shown through the window of the emptyold house devoid of any living occupant. Still a shadow was cast upon the floor of a very old man, theshadow of a man many years since past, a man whose passions were lost to his desires, a man withmany left to teach. The old man’s shadow faded along with the sun’s rays - tomorrow the sun would shineagain, and he would also return, for he happily chose to do so, to stay, for awhile longer. He had notlearned the lessons he now taught in his own life, but he was content that even in death, he could teachthe value of life, and so tomorrow, for another lost soul, a new lesson would begin.
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