I thought I was having a surreal experience all by myself, but my husband leaned over to me and whispered the very thought I was thinking: “gods.”
We had decided to visit the Detroit Institute of Art as part of my whirlwind tour of the city where my husband grew up. There was no time to take in all the of the museum’s collections—American Colonial; Asia and Islamic Spain; Europe and its roots in Greece and Rome; Drawings, Prints, and Photos; Abstract Expressionism; the General Motors Center for African American Art.
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