I cried in public recently. It was somewhat embarrassing, but I didn't care. My wife noticed, but said nothing. It was one of those good cries, not loud and blubbery, just soft and satisfying. It was a cry of joy, of my heart exploding, full of pure pleasure; something welling up inside me that could not be contained by the physical. It snuck up on me as I gazed at a painting, a Monet. I was at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art viewing part of the Duncan Phillips collection and the painting was The Road to Vétheuil, painted by Monet in 1879. It's not the most famous painting in the collection, but it was the one that made my heart soar. The longer I looked at it, the more glorious it seemed. The audio tour headset I wore said something about Monet trying to paint light itself. The attached photo does not come even close to capturing the glorious explosion of color and light that this canvas posesses, but it is the best I could find...
