Then I heard the artist’s voice behind me.
“He asked me to give you something.”
The artist held out an old, worn backpack.
It was the very same backpack the boy had carried when he walked out of my house ten years earlier.
Inside were a few old belongings and a photograph of his mother.
On the back of the photograph, someone had written:
“Thank you for abandoning me when I needed help the most. Because of you, I have achieved so much.”
At that moment, the enormous exhibition hall was filled with people, yet it felt as though the entire world had fallen completely silent.
