The Museum of Small Revolutions

Entry is free. Donations are felt.

Room One — The Entrance
‍Photos line the walls
not of crowds, not of leaders,
but of ordinary things:
a woman crying on the 86 bus,
a boy with stickers on his water bottle,
Gaza and globes
a fruit seller with a badge pinned inside his coat,
where only he can feel it.
The lighting here is soft.
Nothing blares.
You are welcome to take your time.

Lets go to Room Two
‍Where a boy cries
during roll call.
Not loud.
Just enough to stop the list of names.
No one knows what made him fold like that,
but on his desk,
a printout of 27 pages - babies,
all of them,
their names, their ages.
Each one, zero.

Now Room Three — Resistance Through Art
‍This room is quiet on purpose.
There’s a single canvas on the wall, unfinished.
Next to it: a notebook open to a page that reads,
‍“i can’t change the world, but maybe i can draw what it feels like.”
‍
There are no plaques here.
Just pencils and blank paper,
in the corner, a mirror,
above it,
a question:
what does resistance look like on your face?

Room Four
‍A student writes “boycott”
in the margins of his ethics essay.
He knows his professor might see it.
He leaves it in anyway.
‍
Room five
‍This one’s in audio.
Grab the headphones hanging on the wall,
press play.
You’ll hear a conversation on a park bench
between two strangers.
One says, “I don’t know what to do anymore.”
the other replies,
“just don’t look away.”
‍
We reach the Exit Hall
You walk past a wall
Where a sign says,
‍“resistance is not always loud. Sometimes, it is simply
just not quiet.”
Your tour has ended.
You’ve seen five rooms.
Now you know: resistance is an art,
not just a verb.
When you leave,
make it the colours
you choose.