we sat facing each other, fists pounding the table, plates rattling, scattering and shimmering on the wooden surface . like boiling water on the hood of a pick-up truck in the middle of a texan summer . two minds interlocked in a battle of differences . two opposing views, neither one understanding the complexities of their intents . the shouting got louder and the ability to rationalise increasingly became dimmer . loved ones dispersed, sheltering from the eruptions . we continued to shout . ‘art is not art unless it is universal’ thump ! the plates danced … ‘but hold on a sec, does that mean that i am not an artist because i am not universal?’ no reply… ‘art is only good when everyone recognises it … like monet or michelangelo… that’s what art is! bang! … it went on like this and things shut down … what began as a conversation, where the exchange of ideas and the sharing of experiences around a common space enlivened by the gift of food and drink, had now become, once again, a lecture . this is not normal i thought to myself . thankfully those days are gone .