'Even the sculpture is reflecting on life.'

The gallery's exterior felt like a dialogue between eras. On one side stood classical columns that seemed to hum with centuries of permanence; on the other, a gleaming modern sculpture that distorted reality into shimmering fragments. A skateboarder glided past me, his movement reflected in the sculpture’s surface like an echo of fleeting youth. I paused to watch my own image ripple across its polished curves—an unintentional self-portrait framed by art and architecture. The air was warm but not oppressive, and the chatter of distant footsteps merged with the occasional rustle of leaves. It was hard to tell if the sculpture was meant to dominate or simply complement its surroundings. Either way, it demanded attention without uttering a single word.