Scrapbook. part 2

I get paid to look at art.
Well, not exactly to look at it. Rather to watch it. To watch over it.
Because, you know, the art needs to be protected from its visitors. They threaten it.

#1
Mind your step, please!
Ooh, you stepped on the art. Haha.
-The art? Oh ... Sorry.

But mind you, in that same exhibition, there was also some art to step on!

Sometimes though, it rather feels as if I was some kind of caretaker for the visitors themselves.

#2
Excuse me, where is the exhibition?
Right here. You are already in the middle of it.
Oh. Aha? Thank you.

And sometimes I simply don't know what went wrong.

#3
Sagen Sie, sind das alles echte Filme hier?

The woman asking me this was at that moment visiting an exhibition devoted to art films.
Mhhmh.

In fact, I'm not really sure who or what I am protecting.
It's probably my own sanity. Or is it insanity?