https://theoviebooks.wordpress.com/ The rain didn’t care about museum schedules. It hammered the skylights of the National Archaeological Museum like a drunk pianist with a grudge, sloppy, erratic, and full of menace. The marble floors below reflected the chaotic rhythm in pale, watery veins, turning the grand hall into something both majestic and vaguely funereal. Inside, the museum slept uneasily under flickering fluorescent lights and the hum of tired HVAC systems. Most of the patrons had