I allowed as how I mainly didn’t.
“We all want to return to a place we’ve never known, but that we all know exists,” she said.
The other night while we were washing dishes, out of nowhere she goes, “We’re coming into a time when it will be understood that the creation of art is never anything but a communal act, that it’s not possible for it to be anything else—that the notion of the lone genius artist is romantic, but false. No one works alone.”
I was, like, “Sooooo … do you wanna hand me that plate?”
I swear, it’s like being married to a … hot Yoda.
I mean, I’ve managed to adjust and everything. But still.