It was one of those chilly mornings when it was colder than the day before. I had been knowingly avoiding my thick winter coat—not because I thought I was tough, but because putting it on felt like admitting winter had won. And winter comes with all those gloomy thoughts of short days, dark nights, and cold toes. But that day, I gave in. I wore the coat, zipped it up with a sigh, and headed out to work. On my way, I stuffed my hands into the coat pockets to warm them up—because, let’s be honest, gloves are always missing when you need them. That’s when my fingers hit something crinkly. A piece of paper. Curious, I pulled it out. Lo and behold, it was a ticket to the Tate Modern museum! Now, I love art. But not the "paint-a-bowl-of-fruit" kind of art—I mean the kind that makes you go, “What in the world is that?” This ticket brought back memories of my last trip to the museum, a trip I can only describe as… an experience. I remember strolling in, full of enthusiasm, and seeing...
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