It’s when we lose those who were not afraid to express themselves that we reflect on the nature and diversity of art, and we are a little better off knowing the artist did well what they could and left us with something more than memorable.
Patience is the waitress who dutifully serves your lunch, the mechanic who raises an eyebrow at your simple request shrouded in ignorance, disbelief, and fear of the expense, a child waiting for praise when they have done just enough; or all of the above. Patience must be lived, not learned.