ALL THAT STANDS STILL IS NOT A STATUE
A shiver ran down my spine. The moment I stepped inside, I knew that I had made a mistake.
I saw the wax models all around, and not in a manner I had expected (or wanted) them displayed. The public had access to everything! I thought longingly of the museums I had seen everywhere else, with anything on display inside glass boxes with a Don't touch! sign put inside the glass.
I looked around with the awe and attitude of a child yet to discover the significance of the greatness that it had the privilege to witness. I watched, in silence, as women my age hurried to take pictures of themselves with Brad Pitt, without Angelina Jolie who happened to stand on his other side a few nanometres away. Their faces seemed to be filled with happiness that I could not understand and pride that I could not bow to; but I admired, nevertheless, the precision of their photography and the brilliance of their smiles which conveyed genuine delight.
I smiled.
Shrek returned my smile. I gazed at the green figure, surprised that I hadn't noticed him in spite of the fact that he had been looking at me for quite some time now. I think if anyone had cared to look at me then, they would have noticed my cheeks turning pink. I tried to push my way through the crowd, remembering never to lose sight of him. A kid, who had no business to be six months old, came in my way and I almost tripped. As I regained my footing, I looked up to see -
I could not believe what I witnessed. People were taking pictures with him as though he was one of those ugly models- lifeless, cold and extremely boring! As though he was one of those spineless creatures that they worshiped! Couldn't they see him wink at me? Couldn't they see the love that transcends through the - well, stinking, swarming crowd? Were they blind that they did not see it? I hurried in his direction.
I took my place next to him, unable to hide the pride in my glance at all those people begging to be photographed with him. But as I stood next to Shrek, I could feel the warmth of his gaze - on the girl who was standing in the place I had been a few minutes ago! He was winking at her as I stared in horror and indignation.
And there were women my age, taking pictures with him, leaving me carefully out of the frame as I stood nanometers away from him. I hurried away in anger and proceeded towards the exit, where I stopped still, stood staring. I might have stopped breathing, for all I know.
"Hey! I want a pic with her" some fool yelled. I couldn't believe that this was actually happening. He wanted to hug me and take pictures with me as he had with all those lifeless models. Yuck! This person - whom I didn't even grant the happiness of looking at him - came close to me, put his freaking fat hands on my shoulders and stood posing to his mom, who faithfully clicked. Can you believe that? I wanted to run, I wanted to remove his filthy hands. I wanted to yell.
But my legs wouldn't budge. I couldn't speak. In fact I couldn't move any muscle. My waxy eyes stared up lifelessly at the board near the exit that said:
Shrek returned my smile. I gazed at the green figure, surprised that I hadn't noticed him in spite of the fact that he had been looking at me for quite some time now. I think if anyone had cared to look at me then, they would have noticed my cheeks turning pink. I tried to push my way through the crowd, remembering never to lose sight of him. A kid, who had no business to be six months old, came in my way and I almost tripped. As I regained my footing, I looked up to see -
I could not believe what I witnessed. People were taking pictures with him as though he was one of those ugly models- lifeless, cold and extremely boring! As though he was one of those spineless creatures that they worshiped! Couldn't they see him wink at me? Couldn't they see the love that transcends through the - well, stinking, swarming crowd? Were they blind that they did not see it? I hurried in his direction.
I took my place next to him, unable to hide the pride in my glance at all those people begging to be photographed with him. But as I stood next to Shrek, I could feel the warmth of his gaze - on the girl who was standing in the place I had been a few minutes ago! He was winking at her as I stared in horror and indignation.
And there were women my age, taking pictures with him, leaving me carefully out of the frame as I stood nanometers away from him. I hurried away in anger and proceeded towards the exit, where I stopped still, stood staring. I might have stopped breathing, for all I know.
"Hey! I want a pic with her" some fool yelled. I couldn't believe that this was actually happening. He wanted to hug me and take pictures with me as he had with all those lifeless models. Yuck! This person - whom I didn't even grant the happiness of looking at him - came close to me, put his freaking fat hands on my shoulders and stood posing to his mom, who faithfully clicked. Can you believe that? I wanted to run, I wanted to remove his filthy hands. I wanted to yell.
But my legs wouldn't budge. I couldn't speak. In fact I couldn't move any muscle. My waxy eyes stared up lifelessly at the board near the exit that said:
WAX-WORKS WALK!!
Everyday from 8:30 - 9:00 pm, watch one wax model come alive.
Today we present : LADY FIONA
Caution: Never take a picture when they are moving.
The last thing I heard was the clock striking 9.
