Near the end of the week, a young man in his early twenties came to the Narrative Abstract Art show and sat in the corner staring at my drawings. I informed that the work was mine and that they were coloured-pencil drawings. Although visitors in most galleries spend only a few seconds at most looking at artwork, he stared at my work for a long time. He even pulled up a chair from the middle of the room and sat there for ten-twenty minutes. Nothing like this had happened the entire week that I had been there! Most of the work by other artists was bold and grabbed people’s attention; mine were more delicate and required inspection or introspection. I thought my drawings had gotten lost in the masses, but he proved me wrong.
After a while, he stood up and walked towards the table where I was sitting. Without missing a beat, he looked me in the eye and told me to never give up because my artwork was good. And he walked out.