“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.”