In the world that I come from nothing’s predictable. Sometimes everything’s crowding in on you so you have to hunch in on something small and certain and… safe. In your world almost everything’s controlled but for us it’s all a jumble and sometimes you have to scream, So people look at you strangely, Talk about you… as if you’re not even there but… you always know what they’re saying. They get very upset when you scream but often I know they would just like to scream themselves. I think that’s what I find very strange about this world. No one ever says how they feel. They hurt but they don’t cry out. They’re happy but they don’t dance, or jump around. And they’re angry but they hardly ever scream… because they’d feel ashamed and nothing’s worse than that so we walk around with our heads looking down and never look up and see how beautiful the sky is.