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On Friday, I walked across Central Park after work.

I was intending to get to the Neue Gallerie in time for Free First Fridays… unfortunately, I saw the line wind around the block before even left the park. I intuited that the museum was going to be unpleasantly packed and there would be no art high to be had here today.

So, I changed course and went to The Met, as one does.

Though I didn’t document much, I stayed mainly in the Egyptian wing, communing with the many, many rows of tiny aquamarine-colored beads in the shape of eyes, rabbits, cats, and hieroglyphic friezes. I was interested in giving my full attention to the smallest objects this time around. I stared deeply at pottery shards with vibrant psychedelic glazes that looked as though they were fired in the kiln yesterday. Dainty rings and necklaces that still sparkled. Golden sandals that were lightly indented with wear.

I’ve never spent any time in the Egyptian wing, which is so close to the entrance and always overrun with loud children. But on this particular Friday evening, it was refreshingly quiet. Afterward, I ventured back out to the main atrium to cross over to the Ancient Greek wing and heard a string quartet playing from some unseen corner, mixing beautifully with the sound of general bustling.

Not a “true” spinster outing, but close enough.