After a relaxing spa, Sophia got a call from a friend inviting her to see an exhibition at a new art gallery downtown. Sophia happily agreed, then turned to Irene. "Want to come along? You're free this afternoon anyway."
Irene thought she didn't have anything else to do, so she nodded. "Sure. It'll be a chance to cultivate my artistic sensibilities."
But Irene soon regretted what she'd expected to be a lighthearted, enjoyable outing. The moment they entered the gallery, she was engulfed by Impressionist paintings. Everywhere she looked, the walls were covered with blurry patches of color, dancing flecks of light, and shapes she couldn't make out.
Sophia and her friend were thoroughly absorbed. They lingered in front of a painting titled Water Lilies: Variations of Light and Shadow, quietly discussing how Monet's brushstrokes captured the shifting colors of light in an instant.
Irene followed along behind them, trying her best to understand what profound meaning these "blobs" of color were supposed to convey. She squinted at them, then stepped back for another look. Her head only started to spin, as if she'd been shoved into a gigantic, melting palette.
"Sophia," she finally couldn't help saying, gently tugging her sister's sleeve. She lowered her voice, her face full of genuine confusion. "Are you sure these... aren't hanging upside down? Or maybe someone accidentally mixed the paints together while cleaning the canvases?"
Sophia's friend couldn't help laughing. Sophia gave her younger sister a helpless look and sighed. "Irene, Impressionism is about light, shadow, and atmosphere, not precise forms. You have to feel its hazy beauty and capture the impression of a moment."
Well, she simply couldn't find any beauty in it. It seemed artistic sensibilities were something you either had or you didn't. Just as Irene was fretting over how