https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/489124
Oldest NY Grandson – 09/28/20
…and, no, he wasn’t a clown, he didn’t know why they said that, no fourteen-year-old boy wanted to be a clown, though one friend he had was a clown, because he thought he had to be one to be liked, for attention, any attention, he said, and that was sad, and even his friend knew that. Maybe it was what in the eyes of his friend that surprised him and saddened him when his friend almost just whispered it, as if he himself did not want to hear it, maybe that is why…or at least one of the reasons, he didn’t like being called clown, even though he did funny things for his younger cousins to make them laugh. But away from the family, in the sanctuary…a word he always liked since he heard it and understood what it meant…in the sanctuary of his own room he would sit quietly and look out his window to the street below and think, and try to think more, for he knew he was not a clown, he never wanted to be someone in a costume, just blending into the wallpaper, or just being part of the room, and maybe just because he didn’t know what he wanted to be, that was okay for now.
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