Every time I looked at the painting on the wall, I liked it more. At first I had thought it was painted by a talented child.
When the adviser mentioned that the painting had been done by an adult, I judged it differently.
I was not impressed.
Still, I found myself sneaking peeks at it as the meeting moved on.
My focus improved each time I stole a glance.
The artwork had real meaning to it. It symbolized something.
The colors were nice.
Perhaps there was purpose behind the childish appearance.
I took one last look when I walked out the door.
I’d like to paint something like that.