I was buying this dress half-off when I stumbled into a discussion with a stranger about the flight of artists and their work from New York. It was one of those conversations that you start to wake up in the middle of, a sense of happy surprise stealing over you as you realize that you’re talking about something besides elementary school or what iteration of tortilla-based dish you’re going to make for dinner and you didn’t even have to bring a side dish to your book club to do it! (I’m just kidding about the book club thing. I don’t belong to one, so this bit of accidental intellectual action will probably do it for me for the quarter.) Only through living convinced of…