Dr Madeleine, sitting amid the sun slanted minimalism of her midtown office took a deep breath and leaned forward slightly on that blue rolling chair that seemed slightly too small for her and was probably designed by some fey European genius. "You know, Buster, people are allowed to have their own thoughts and make their own decisions." She said. "You can't go on holding it against them. It's not healthy." "I don't know what that has to do with anything." I replied. She chose her next words carefully. "You can't tell people to 'make art or fuck off'. It's aggressive behaviour. People are not going to respond positively to that type of language." I gave her a mock-bewildered look and said, "Good. Fuck them. If I wanted their approval I'd join a fucking dance troupe." She exhaled slowly and straightened her back. "What does that even mean, Buster?" "I don't know. I don't know what I want." I said. A feeling of exhaustion suffused my chest and neck. "I mean," As I spoke I looked past Dr Madeleine and through the huge windows at the cloudless baby blue sky atop the mountains, "I guess I want something new. I want to be surprised." | image: @dan_cretu