things from a different angle, as if they were on stilts; they didn’t realize how much easier it was for them to step over obstacles, or catch someone’s attention, or keep out of the mud. The best of them might think that they were looking at you eye to eye, but they never were, they were always peering down, watching you mop, as if mopping was the thing that made you what you were, the identifier, like spotting a white throat on a crow and knowing that meant it was really a rook.
