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'Andrew Wyeth A Story of the Olson House' Collection of Marunuma Art Park
The music used for the slides was
octaviosantos
Cellos Chill out
SoundCloud
As the end of the exhibition period approached, I finally felt like making the long trip to Yamazaki, Kyoto.
The sunny and mild weather also encouraged my desire to visit Yamazaki, Kyoto.
As I exited the ticket gate of JR Yamazaki Station, I saw a lively group of people. There were five or six women, all older than me.
They said, âIt looks like the car just left, so let's take two taxis.
They said, âThere's only one, but we'll go ahead and wait for you.â
I wondered if they were also going to the Andrew Wyeth exhibition. I wondered as I walked up the hill to the Oyamazaki Villa Museum of Art. Even if they were, they would not come with me because they were going up by car. With that in mind, Â I walked relatively slowly.
The small museum was crowded even on a weekday, and there was a short line at the entrance. The lively group I had feared was right next to me, and I could hear them inside the museum as well. There is, of course, a sign warning people not to talk in private. ......
I wondered where the story of the Olson House, where Christina and Alvaro lived, and this bustling group of people would connect. My displeasure grew. In front of the Chichuukan, the collection exhibit, Monet's Waterlilies, and a notice board with the artist's biography, the chatter only stopped when the security guard warned them to shut up.
I considered leaving the museum immediately, but decided to order a glass of vodka with orange rings, which Andrew Wyeth used to drink before dinner. As it was lunchtime, I had to wait my turn  in the cafe, and when asked if I would mind waiting a while, I had to nod my head.
Finally it was my turn and I was shown to my seat. Without even looking at the menu, I ordered a vodka and added cheese as a snack.
The vodka didn't come out very quickly, probably because the place was so crowded. When the vodka was finally served, I was told that the seating was limited to one hour. The alcohol content was high and there was a limit of only one drink per person. There was no way I could stay that long.
I took a sip. It doesn't look like an alcoholic drink.It is orange juice itself. I regretted that I didn't need the cheese.
But as I took a few sips, the voices around me became mere sounds.
The voices that had been so unpleasant just drifted away as meaningless, irrelevant sounds.
The beauty of the autumn leaves at their peak. The blue of the sky. I noticed the silence of the museum grounds.
I felt happy, as if I had lied to myself.
Whenever you have a bad day at work," she said, "have a drink on the way home. You are the kind of person who feels better after a drink. Don't bring the bad feelings from work home with you.
When was it that time my wife said this to me?
As she said, I stopped by once every two days to have a drink and go home. Two glasses of sake. Two appetizers. Three to forty minutes. And when I got home, I drank sake and ate what I was served as usual.
This went on until I retired.
During the time I was stopping at the standing bars my wife was probably in the kitchen reading a paperback book and drinking sake without eating anything. I am sure she was a stronger drinker than I was, but if she drank to the point of physical deterioration, that was the only time I could think of.
It was more than 10 years ago that she left a note saying she had to call an ambulance and be taken to hospital when I returned home after my usual stop.
I remember rushing to the hospital and being told by her doctor that there was a lot wrong with her. After that hospitalisation my wife stopped drinking. She couldn't drink anymore.
I wonder if she would still be alive today if I had been a person who didn't have to stop and go to bars to refresh myself.
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