Sometimes I feel like I’m carrying a ten-pound bag of sad on my back. It’s the weight of the world, perhaps, bearing down, oppressively, however much I try to balance it, lighten it, lose it. Last night, for one brief moment, while gazing at this Dale Chihuly sculpture, the weight lifted. It lifted, and I felt light, and I danced like the suddenly-alive people in the paintings on the walls of the ballroom in the animated movie, Anastasia. Art can do that to you. Art can do that.