One thing that I was thinking about while you were talking is a way, I think, to say what our modern relationship is here is that we think feelings lie and we think facts don't. Yes. And I've come to believe that's a very simplistic way to think about both feelings and facts. Yes.

But what I am doing to make form into content here while you talk, I have this whole list of questions. and in a rational, coherent, factual way, I know what the next question should be. What I'm actually doing is watching a feeling that is moving around in my chest while you speak. And there's a moment when I know that you said something that's at the next place we should go and it's not the thing on my sheet of paper. It's this whole thing I'm doing right now in a way.

And maybe it's wrong. Yes. But no great interviews. are logical, like they just aren't. Like we're working in a medium that does not work that way. Conversation does not work logically. And I do think we degraded our relationship our attunement to what we feel Yes And that actually a mistake

So I understood one argument you making about art which feels true to me, is that it's a way of practicing our attunement to our feelings. I think that opens something interesting here. One thing in the book that connected for me was you quote a musician friend of yours, John Hassel, who you says, asks the question, what is it that I really like? And so being able to answer that is the most important question. Why?

So we're being told probably about 10 or 12,000 times a day what we ought to like, what other people like, what some people would prefer that we liked. We're told that in the form of advertising, in the form of political messages, in the form of all of the things that try to persuade us to think or believe one thing rather than another. It's the biggest industry in the Western world, actually, persuasion. And it's very easy in that flood, actually, of that tsunami of suggestions about what we ought to like to forget what we actually do like.