Over coffee on State Street, we talked about art. At least, I interpreted everything through the lens of art, or people engaging in art, or, more precisely, people allowing their own art to flow.
It is the kind of conversation that you can have when you’re not worried about something hugely more important – as in your kids getting to their orchestra rehearsal on time, or your own employability.
Or maybe it is all hugely important and we just don’t understand this early enough, when we can still do something about it. Like go paint a canvas, or write a memoir.
It was just an idle conversation. I did not immediately get out my paintbrush afterwards. That would have been foolish.
But I did take stock. There in that coffee shop, where students look like the murals on the walls and the murals on the walls look like Italian frescoes and none of it is genuine but all is calm and, in fact, quite beautiful.
two pairs of sandals and two books
three coffee cups