While we work, we talk the way we did on Saturday: easy and eager, which I usually don’t have the energy for. But Keynes is energy, and he makes conversation even simpler than Rebecca does. Our chatter doesn’t feel like a weight or a landmine. It feels like being caught in the current of a lazy, winding stream, floating along under the sun, turning this way and that with every thoughtless word. It feels like nothing is—has ever been—could ever be—wrong.
