I’ve seen a lot. I mean, not like that, no, I mean… For instance, I’ve seen that you’re maybe one of, I don’t know, three people in the world that likes pizza-flavored chips. You’re also the only person I’ve ever seen that spends more time on the roof of her house than in her actual house. And what are you doing? You’re reading. Books. You know, not “US Weekly or "Seventeen”, or, you know… but you’re reading substantial books. You also do this, uh… You do this thing where, it’s like an OCD thing, but it’s not. It’s, um… Whenever you’re leaving your room, you grab the doorknob, you turn it and you’re getting ready to leave but you don’t, you stop and you back up and you turn to the mirror and you stare at yourself. But it’s not like a, you know, “I’m so hot” kind of stare. You know, it’s more like… “Who am I, really?” And to ask yourself that, I mean, that’s so cool. So you look out the window all the time like I do, only you’re looking at the world, you know? Tryin’ to figure it out, trying to understand the world. Trying to figure out why it’s not in order like your books… I’m only looking at you.