I wonder if the sculpture is judging my posture.

The gallery's light poured onto the bronze figure, accentuating its fluid lines and serene presence. I stood before it, marveling at how something so still could evoke such movement. The folds of its form seemed to ripple like water frozen in time. A gold disc on its head caught a stray beam of sunlight, momentarily dazzling me. It was as though the sculpture itself had become aware of my gaze and responded with a quiet brilliance. Around me, murmurs of other visitors faded into the background as I tried to decipher the stories etched into its curves.