We expect those who looked at us, when we looked at them, to come unattached. To have nothing but falling in love with us as the purpose of their lives theretofore. When they saw us, and in us they recognized “the one”, they would have no choice but to wait for us at bus stops, under hail or rain, hoping to see us again. To be driven crazy by the good that we are no one else but they can see. To sing love songs on our behalf and go out of their mind for want of us. [We are foolish]
