I had a nice time there, nevertheless -- I saw some things I liked, some kittens and puppies, and communed for 15 seconds with a Monet brush stroke. But it was still a relief to get out into the light and air and the world of real kittens and puppies. Art is culture; but culture is more than art. Given a day, say, in Paris -- oh please, please, somebody give me a day in Paris -- you’d find me not at the Louvre but in some ordinary cafe with a coffee drink and some bready thing, regarding le monde from behind Le Monde. On my local street of food and consumption, where I stopped on the way home, there were schoolchildren, too, and the shelves of the shops were full of things it was okay to touch (though if you break it, you buy it). I saw a grown woman in a Cub Scout shirt, and then actual Cub Scouts, one of whom sold me a candy bar with bits of ”toofy“ in it. All around me, people were using the artifacts of some future museum‘s keeping -- paper cup, early 21st century, artist unknown -- little suspecting the riches they held.