There is one memory that stands out very specifically. We were in the art museum, and you showed me a painting of a bowl of fruit. “See how perfect it looks?”, you asked me. I nodded my head. “Yet it isn’t perfect at all”. You proceeded to show me all of the imperfections with the painting, the poor shadowing, sizing, and other small things I didn’t notice, and wouldn’t have noticed had you not pointed them out. I nodded my head again. In a way I think you were talking about yourself. It’s strange how one’s problems can be so easily hidden in plain view, yet we remain clueless until they’re pointed out to us, when they become obvious and impossible to ignore.