I have a booth at the Renegade Craft Fair, and it's mostly wealthy San Franciscans between 20 and 50.
A girl, maybe 12 years old, wearing a too big shirt and brightly colored shorts comes up to me with her father. Her father is trying to tie her shoe (she had already tripped over her laces once), she isn't looking at him.
"Papi, these are beautiful!" She says. He's still busy tying her shoe.
She grabs a business card from the table.
"Can I borrow your pen so I can draw it so I can remember it?" She asks me. I give her my pen. She draws a bunch of shapes on the card. "There," she says, "now, I'll never forget what it looks like."
"I love your art," she says, "It looks like it's made of jam!"
The father stands up finally and they leave.