There wasn’t an open gallery within an hour of Providence Peak, in any direction, that Lena wasn’t in attendance. She lived for the thrill of creativity brought to life. Even if it wasn’t her own. It was always special. Baring witness to another creator’s genius. Their life force, on display, for all to see. And to judge, she was aware, unfortunately. A few spectators made snide remarks about the artist’s lack of a modern touch with their use of vivid color and design intricacies, but its wildness was what Lena loved. It told a story, greater than any modern, minimalist piece of crap could. She was transfixed on one piece in particular. It called to her from the moment she stepped inside, and she spent the better part of her attendance staring at it. Her eyes never moved, even as she spoke allowed. “I bought this. What do you think?”