“I wish I was an artist,” I told my Someone.  We were admiring the graffiti in Laramie, Wyoming.  We are always taken by graffiti.

“You are,” he said.

“But, you know, like a real artist.”

“Like a painting kind of artist?”

“Yeah,” I said, “like a real, pull out a canvas and make something visual artist.  Like a real painter.”

“Then maybe you should start painting.”