Is it just me, or is there something strangely comforting about art heists?
don't get me wrong, i totally understand that thefts like this hurt galleries, especially smaller ones. but at the same time, isn't it sort of exciting and wonderful? like, somehow it proves that the world can - on occasion - be just as interesting a place as we wish it would be? it's hard not to picture attractive people, clad all in black, deactivating complex alarm systems and rappelling down the sides of buildings with centuries-old masterpieces strapped to their backs. but, honestly, even if it was ugly people in custodial uniforms smashing the alarm system and throwing paintings into the back of a pickup truck, it would still be kind of exciting.
call me a dreamer, but, personally, i find a world in which art heists happen, a world that is far more magical than the one we usually live in.
now if only there was one - just one - evil genius with a hollowed-out volcano lair...
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