Art, schmart

Surrounded by young women: some are old college classmates, others are friends from high school. We are taking shelter from a rainstorm in a foreign city at the home of a local artist, after traipsing down crooked sidewalks in this city that seems German (Berlin, maybe?). Her walls are scattered with framed work. And while putzing around we ladies begin a conversation on art. (Very lofty.) I notice that some of the frames are merely framing colored/painted paper. I raise the question about whether or not a nearly empty page is art...? One of the young ladies (a friend in real life, a "graduated artist") begins to argue that yes, that blue paper in the frame on the opposite wall is art. Why? I want to know. Meanwhile, the stairs in this woman's home become crowded with feet: people coming and going - a cocktail party is being held on the floor above us. As the others rise to their feet and go get a drink, I remain seated, staring out across the room at the blue framed page. As I stare I begin to see large-petaled flowers on the page. There are other shapes too, but it is the various blue flowers that strike me.
I make my way to the foot of the steps when our "guide" gathers us and tells us it is time to head into the city. We pile into his vehicle and the rain continues. Our guide looks quite competent - a nice suit, no visible drool on his chin - but he seems unable to master the art of driving. The light rain really sends him and the steering wheel into a tizzy. We are stopped on a freeway, attempting to merge, but all the traffic has stopped. We are closer to the city, but it is mentioned that we have been driving for five hours.