I took my friend Avery to the art museum to look at paintings on his day off. I think he enjoyed himself, but it was hard to tell if we were looking at the same things.

'Look at this texture,' he said at one stop, admiring from behind the velvet rope the frame around a painting. 'It's exquisite.'

'No, it's plastic,' I said, and tried to explain where the real art was.

He tried to like the painting, I could tell, but his eyes kept sliding away, this time down to the velvet rope itself.

'It's beautiful!' he cried, stroking the velvet and watching it change colors as he went with and then against the grain. 'How does anyone make something like this?'

I had to admit, I had no more idea if how to make velvet than how to paint a painting.

In the gift shop, we both picked out a few postcards to send home. I think he only bought them to please me, because as we walked out, he gave them to me, then carefully smoothed the bag they came in, folded it, and placed it in his wallet for safekeeping.