She said it wasn't finished. I needed to do something with the lemon. I needed to make it darker or something. Otherwise, my art teacher told me, I lost the lemon. But I liked things unfinished the way sketches were done in pencil, the way lead looked messy and sewn together. It meant more to me unanswered, imperfect. It meant something that we didn't leave, that we liked the ruins, that we tried to save them.