Image source: https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Bristol_Museum_and_Art_Gallery,_1904.jpg
In the bitter museum the past is on parade in postures of reproach. Vast corridors display a thousand ways of being ashamed and illustrate the progress of despair. Behind their glass, the mannequins of once exhibit all the wealth of worlds now gone, and frozen in their accusatory dance the avatars of loss are labelled Done. In the bitter museum extinguished dynasties of hope set forth their monuments, inscribed in that dead language, laughter. Vanished breeds of joy are shown, regretfully alive. The relics seem so real they almost leer. In the bitter museum the dust is streaked with tears. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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