“I think if anyone could do it, Axel, paint something so complexly beautiful, it would be you.” “And if I do it terribly?” he asks. “Art is subjective. You’re the judge of it, right? Of course you have your standards, but maybe you’ll come to realize they need to be adjusted or they were unreasonable to begin with. Maybe you’ll muscle through a few rough attempts before you make something you’re proud of, and it will be everything you wanted.” I reach carefully toward him, extracting the leaf I tossed into his hair. “Maybe even more.”
