Back at the Glyptotek the next morning, this time for the rooms rather than the dome. Kai Nielsen's water mother sits in the Winter Garden, a marble figure with more children than she can hold, half screened by the palms. You come for the building and find the sculpture almost by accident, lily pads at its feet.
The painting galleries are hung in deep colors, rooms of rose and oxblood that do as much work as the frames on the walls. A visitor in a pink shirt had stopped by a window to take a call, matching the room without meaning to. I waited for her to settle and let the arches line up.