Reading the novel Lolita while listening to Winston’s Summer, thinking a fond friend’s companionship, and sitting next to my son, all on a plane traveling home, I realized how vulnerable I am to needing such things. I’d like to think that while I enjoy such things, I could take them or leave them. But that’s probably not true. I like to think I’d give them all up if needed to face and speak important truths, but well, that seems unlikely too. If some opinion of mine seriously threatened to deprive me of key things, my subconscious would probably find a way to see the reasonableness of the other side.