Consider me: born in the Information Age, I grew up in Paris suburbs, frequently stealing one day of the week-end to run up to the capital and dwell hours at a time in joy and in the long halls and corridors of Le Louvre with its hundreds of galleries and thousands of works of art for everybody to observe at length or just for a glimpse, to bathe your mind with beauty and culture. And all that for free! What a bargain. Like many kids, I also loved purchasing postcards with the reproductions of the paintings or sculptures that had impressed me the most that day. I would get a whole museum just for myself for a few cents. I would then spend hours over a piece of half transparent paper to separate the colors of a Van Gogh with a fine stroke of my pencil and then trying to make a copy by myself just for myself.
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