In this memory, I’m five years old. I’m visiting the local art gallery near my home for a weekend picnic with my mother and little brother.
Right inside the entrance, in the middle of the hallway, is a large bronze statue that looks like an egg. The egg is tilted ever so slightly as if saying something to the passerby.
As we walk through the hallway, my gaze is fixed on the enormous egg, trying to understand what secret message it’s trying to communicate to us.