But as I stepped closer, something shifted.

It felt like approaching a peephole—the kind you squint through to glimpse another world. Yet this one didn’t narrow the view; it expanded it.

Colors held their breath. Shapes whispered edges I’d never walked before.

I drew nearer. Closer still. Not with admiration or analysis, but simply leaning in. And the room around me faded away.

I was no longer just looking. I was stepping inside.

Then it happened—a pull, like gravity emanating from within the art. I ceased to be an observer. I became the space between.