My students are debating the nature of the woman in Klimt’s The Kiss. Why, you ask, are students learning about The Kiss in Landscape Design and Management at the local community college? Because, according to my extremely rough quant research, their future clients will probably be the type of people who fucking love Klimt. Or, at least, the aesthetic of Klimt. We can infer that their clients will want to exude an aura of knowing and appreciating Klimt.

There are about ten minutes left in class, so most of the students have tuned out and are waiting for the conversation to find a natural conclusion. I’m waiting, too, my mind having drifted to climbing palm trees with a saw, the breeze in my hair, and then tonight, maybe some cheap wine or a couple beers with Liz before bed—such a good life.

Max, my favorite worst student, signals that it’s time to pack up by playing, aloud from his phone, a Sonic Youth song, the one that inspired K to record her first demo. Now it feels heavier on pick scrapes than I remember. And as it turns out, this song is also on the playlist K sent me.

“Max,” I say. “Not now. I hate that band.”

“But you’re wearing their shirt,” Max says, shaking his head.

I point to the Klimt again. “Now listen, one last question before we wrap. You walk into the prospective client’s house and you see this hanging above a white marble table in the foyer. Klimt’s aesthetic. How might it inform the imaginary lines your client desires outside their home? Like, for example, azaleas or no azaleas?”