Monet walked into the room, head down. I asked him, what’s wrong Monet? Monet said, “I can’t paint today” So I asked him “Why?” “The fields are empty, they have been paved with gray. My voice is in impressions, the direct experience.” “What?” I asked. “What is more direct than the mind?” “What?”, Monet said. “Yes,” I said. And then I looked around the room, listening to the rain. “I’ll paint that then,” Monet said. “What?” I asked, “Can you read my mind?” “No, I am your mind,” Monet said. “Whatever,” I said to Monet. “Exactly,” Monet replied “Do you hear the rain?” I thought for a minute and listened closely. I heard nothing. “And now.” “What?” I asked Monet. Monet looked up. “Never mind.” he said. “OK,” I said, “Never mind.”
The Reluctant Blogger 