“You’ve read it?” He nods, so I continue. “Do you remember the green light at the end of Daisy’s dock? Gatsby focused so much on that green light, enchanting himself to think that it was her. And then when Daisy was finally in his presence, the light lost all its meaning.” I pause, tracing the rim of my cup. “I think people do that a lot. Fall in love with the idea of a life that isn’t theirs and then when they step into that life, suddenly it’s different than what they thought. Duller than they imagined.”
