My friend Patrick covered the white walls of his studio apartment with copies of Edward Munch's work. The reproduction of The Scream hung above the plaid Ikea couch.
That couch... we would waste a cloudy Saturday afternoon drinking Harp on M Street. Then, hours later, would return to his apartment where he'd encourage one of us to lie on the couch and reveal some imaginary problem to the "Good Doctor." He named his practice M.I. Incorporated.
Funny how we have so little control over the random memories that pop into our heads.