Great Expectations.

Finn: What's it like not to feel anything?

Estella: Let's say there was a little girl, and from the time she could understand, she was taught to fear... let's say she was taught to fear daylight. She was taught that it was her enemy, that it would hurt her. And then one sunny day, you ask her to go outside and play and she won't. You can't be angry at her can you?

Finn: I knew that little girl and I saw the light in her eyes, and no matter what you say or do, that's still what I see.

Estella: We are who we are. People don't change.

The sun is falling into the horizon, yellow streaks turn a tired orange
Your breaths are deep.
You remind me of the ocean.
Vast and deep and godlike.
A potent awareness of your power
charasmatically shaded in humility.
Fashionably sensitive; yet too cool to care.

I turned to say something to you
as orange swirls faded into a haze above us;
but you were miles away.

You do that sometimes, you know.
It is what made you so beautiful to me that night we watched each other.
I didn't know your name
or where you came from
or where you had been.
I wanted to find you,
even though you were never lost.

and I wonder, if life would ever take you to a place too far away,
that you would lose sight of us.

and just before that last tip of sun disappears into the backdrop
you turn to me and smile,
that boyish smile,
and say, "I am still here."

You return, every time.

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