This morning I walked through the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York with total indifference to all the wonders on display. Room after crammed room, nothing could hold my interest. Even I was surprised by my indifference. The museum itself struck me as a musty and dark place of little interest, architectural or otherwise. Even the coffee I had there was insipid, tepid, boring. Reviewing the visit and trying to capture something that I could take away as a mental souvenir, I am drawing a blank. Perhaps this is the souvenir I have been looking for, though.