I was sitting in the waiting room of my doctor this morning.  I glanced up, at the ancient artwork above the fireplace.

“Look at the beauty of the sculpture inset into the wall”

Then more looking …

The shadows.  The roundness of the tree trunk.

But could it be a painting, perfectly flat?  >  No, that’s impossible  >  I know my eyes  >  Or do I?

I stood up and came close.  Flat.  A painting.

I know

Or I don’t know

And how much of life do I really not know?