“Kids are not good for people like us anyway.” “People like us . . . ?” “Yeah, people like us.” “How are we different?” He mockingly, sleepily laughed, bitterly too. “We’re not real. We don’t belong to the human race.” “What are we then?” “Dancing dolls, that’s all. Dancing fools, afraid to be real people and live in the real world. That’s why we prefer fantasy.
