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Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Native American Museum

Being a foreign national I gain been curious about the inborn American culture for nigh time now. It
might be since I occupy never been in the presence of one, or maybe because of the old horse opera movies
portraying them as these feathered warriors, which led me to visit the Native American Museum.
I was surprised at what I strand though. I started out to see the wilderness of a nation, moreover to venture
into a mausoleum of the change of a culture.
The exhibition was held at a superb expression; a rare building in a city which wants to conquer the sky.
The entrance was emphasise by these thick roman pillars and two sitting lions on both sides of small
sized scales. When one went in he would be thrown his first surprise by just now looking the ceiling of the
oval room which preceded the exhibition. Different paintings of incompatible merely correlated topics would
complete this oval showcase of graceful art. Yet these painting were not a give-away of what was yet to
come, since they were paintings of American history instead than Native American one.
The exhibition was rather smaller than I had expected but it was fair to middling to satiate my curiosity.

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In
addition to the normal artifacts I was lucky enough to pry into some items of private collectionists,
whom, by my good fortune, were displaying their collections this calendar month at the museum.
After walking around a subaltern bit through the museum looking at the huts, wooden artifacts and antediluvian patriarch
weaponry a photograph caught my eye. It was a photograph of the scratch line of this century or the end
of the last one. It was undated but it wasnt the date I was searching in it anyway. I was searching to find
the identity of the people in the photo. not who they were, but rather what they were. I guess they
themselves must have been confused or socially pressured to an identity crisis. It was as if you had taken
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