An epiphany this morning regarding boundaries, and representation, and dreams of an open society: you can’t sing along with every word of every song. (Note: this isn’t just about art.)

You — each and every one of us, including you — can’t sing along with every word of every song: not in empathy or sympathy, not in solidarity, not in homage. They are available for us to hear, to appreciate, but not to share.

Some of us believe, if we can’t sing along with every word of a song, that something must be wrong: the song should not have been so composed, or ever sung in our hearing, or the words should be given over to us even though they are not ours to sing.

But I want to live surrounded by great art, including art which isn’t for me or about me, except as another human being. When someone invites you to listen to a song, and you discover that you can’t sing along with every word, be even more grateful for the invitation to listen. It’s hard enough for us to know each other, without some of us always being talked over, or being shut out, or having to hide.