![[Image]](images/BushmanLives-56.jpg)
I was in the Art Institute, looking at The Bedroom, a swell painting by Vincent Van Gogh, when Molly found me. She had the Wolluf with her.
“How come they let you bring a dog in here?” I asked her.
“Because he’s the Wolluf. He’s not a dog. Anyway, I’ve been looking for you. Do you know a guy named Geets?”
“Sure, I know Geets. He’s probably my best friend. He hasn’t been around for a while. Did you see him?”
“He’s mishi-gazu.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a Zen term. Can’t be explained.”
“So where did you see him?”
“He’s at the house.”
“The house where we hang out?”
“There.”
“Now?”
“Now.”
“Well, let’s go see him.”
“All right, but I warn you, he’s tzu-mishi-wa.”
“Zen term?
“Yes.”
“Can’t be explained?”
“No.”
We were walking. “How did you know I knew Geets? Did he mention me?”
“No. He just set up a little workshop at the house and started working on his . . . work.”
“And you came looking for me.”
“Right.”
“Why? Why did you come looking for me?”
“Because you’re a friend of Geets, and I thought you would like to see him.”
“But he never mentioned me.”
“I said that.”
“So why?”
“Why what?”
“Why did you know I was a friend of his?”
“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m studying to be a wise woman. I know things.”