In my study, nursing a bottle of beer, looking at a picture of Paul Klee’s Southern Gardens on my computer.

The triangles bother me a little, especially the ones on the top left and top right. On each side, an upright triangle’s nose meets an inverted triangle’s nose, reminding me of hourglasses. Could they be erupting volcanoes? I am choked by a discomfort when I look at the red, inverted triangle on the top right. Doesn’t it look like a dissolving heart?

The crowd of quadrilaterals, mostly consisting of squares and rectangles with rough edges, is what makes this piece aesthetically pleasing. Each quadrilateral is a box of organized chaos.

The plants in pots, I see them, but my eyes don’t dwell on them. They’re neutral transformers. They have only one job to do: transmute the canvas into a garden.

And the garden is beautiful, and it absorbs boredom like a sponge.