Spectacular failure

When I visit art museums, I always reward myself with a trip to the gift shop at the end. I may not be able to afford any of the masterpieces that I have seen on display, but I can take away some postcards or a souvenir booklet to refresh my memory. On my last visit to the High Museum of Art in Atlanta, I was standing in line at the cash register with a box of Van Gogh note cards in my hand when I saw a clear glass bowl full of smooth silver pebbles on the counter. Each was about as big as my thumb, with one word etched into its surface. Even without touching them, I could see one that said “hope” and another that said “love.”


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