The Curator by Robert Pasquini 1

The Curator by Robert Pasquini   He greeted us at the edge of town between a fountain spurting no water and an abandoned house with a singed plaque indicating its status as a cultural heritage site. This town seemed like all the rest—ruinous and unpopulated—until we saw his waving arms. He must have seen us from quite a distance and had awaited our arrival at our most convenient junction. We felt lucky to encounter another person.                “Welcome! Welcome! You have arrived ! Your stay here at the Museum will be exceptional. As host and curator of the collections housed here, I intend to inform and rehabilitate all weary travellers with as much care as I would handle delicate artifacts. My name is Herbert, some people call me George, but you address me as you please. And you are…? Kurt and Vera? Would you believe it? I know another couple with the same names. Should we begin? How foolish of me! How could I be so inhospitable? Take a rest, please, before we start. It’s quite a gruelling tour.”                 The curator delivered his opening spiel while grabbing our hands and shaking them with vigour. He was wearing a hat with fur flaps to cover his ears, probably homemade. The parka he wore was stained with soot. His boots were fastened to his snow pants with duct tape. I wondered if he ever took them off. After directing us to a tireless car, opening the doors for both us, and making sure that our seats were satisfactory, he continued to speak while we caught our breath. I wondered when he had last spoken to another person; he seemed surprised at the sound of his own voice.                 “It’s been quite a lot of work, but the Town Museum is finally ready for its first visitors. It’s difficult to pinpoint exactly when I began collecting and re-organizing the town. Some days I’ll catch myself thinking that these circumstances have been consistent the whole time I’ve been here, like its always been this way.”    [  >>>>> FORWARD ]   Share | [Distillate © HA&L + Robert Pasquini |  {from the Greek bios} -- the course of a life.]