Signs point you in many directions, but communicate little if you do not already know what's beyond them.
You can guess that there's art, being the art gallery and all. Which wing do you wander toward?
Warm, bright rays of sunshine wash the whole of the gallery. It smells like rain, and sunflowers, and gelatine. You feel a sense of optimism about the future take hold.
The tantalizing glow of neon lights beckons you from this wing. It smells like fruit and gasoline. You feel a sense of nostalgia and hunger take hold.
Ancient lanterns flicker under commercially-approved office lighting. It smells like spanikopita and sounds like keyboards typing. You feel pulled in two directions, though you only face one.
You feel a sense of nothingness and everythingness.