“Why do you always pay when we go out?” – Asked she, staring straight at me.
And I remembered something my father said to a cousin of mine:
“To watch a great show, to watch a great concert, to watch a great painting, you pay a certain fee.
You don’t pay for the its notes or shape,
you pay for the privilege of basking in its soul,
in its lines,
in the beauty of what the lines show and what the lines hide;
You pay to watch the beauty from within, come out, and become the beauty of what is outside.”
“And… what, if she wants to pay too?” – Asked my cousin.
“Well, let her!” – My father answered, “Cause sometimes, you are the painting too!”
I smiled, and looking at her, I said, “Ok, this time, I guess the honor is yours.”