Until one is forced to believe that Art is Dead does one find resonance in the truth that Real Art Never Dies.
I went to a play last week and I sat beside this old couple who must have (must of?) had an argument before they arrived. I couldn't figure out what the old lady was bickering about, but wow, was she uber bitter. She didn't take her jacket off the entire night and kept her purse clenched and on her lap the whole time too. I keep making up stories of what it could have been about. Here's a sample of her remarks, but I couldn't make sense of it.
I went to a play last week and I sat beside this old couple who must have (must of?) had an argument before they arrived. I couldn't figure out what the old lady was bickering about, but wow, was she uber bitter. She didn't take her jacket off the entire night and kept her purse clenched and on her lap the whole time too. I keep making up stories of what it could have been about. Here's a sample of her remarks, but I couldn't make sense of it.