Brilliant! Thank you for an absolutely fascinating read. I couldn't stop thinking about this essay after I first read it yesterday.

I'm not going to try to add anything, because I couldn't imagine what I would have to say that could illuminate.

I will mention personally that I have fond memories of another Tucker, a boy I remember most for mucking out a barn in old fashioned overalls, an actual stalk of hay in his mouth, morning sunlight turning his blond hair red.

We loved each other for a time as boys, he and I. Until ideologies tore us apart, our realities pipiked by adults who insisted we couldn't know who we were or what we felt.

That reality (which doubled itself repeatedly at various times in my life) has both formed and restricted my own art, forcing me (in my own mind) into paths I don't choose. Rather, I acquiesce.

I haven't produced real art since the pandemic, since my dad was dying in 2020.

I'm pretty sure I will again one day, though, and your essay has given me a lot to think about.

Thank you.