Self-Made Boys: A Great Gatsby Remix (Remixed Classics)

by Anna-Marie McLemore

his face was so wistful I knew he meant Daisy. That look was always about Daisy. She’d left it on men who met her once and never forgot her. For Daisy, the act of enchanting was so frequent that it must have seemed ordinary.

“Boys like us always know one another about a thousand years before anyone else knows us, don’t we?”

“Every beautiful thing can be broken down into math,” I said. “There are numbers under all of it.” “Isn’t that a little cold?” he asked. “No,” I said. “It’s comforting. It means that underneath everything that’s ever moved you or that you’ve ever loved, there’s something real and irrefutable. There’s a lattice of numbers proving that it’s true, that it’s really there, that you didn’t just imagine all of it.”

This boy whose shoulders I held in my hands, I wanted him to have the shimmer of the whole world.