I liked the colours and the scale, but I could take or leave the images, they didn't fit with the surrounding environment or speak to me in any way. They weren't clever or a commentary on life or social situation or anything really. They were a story without emotion, evoked nothing.
Pretty and vacant this mural, I thought. I tried to remember the bricks that were there before the painting, and whether I had perhaps liked them more than this colourful counterpart. But I couldn't recall. I guess both the wall and the painting had their trouble making an impression.
But it was my birthday. I was out with my family.. a warm April day where the bright colours of the painting and the outing stayed with me, in my heart as well as my photograph.
And so it should be remembered with art that seemingly gives us nothing, that we can instead give to it something that makes it more meaningful to us.