good morning, alice. i need you to manage the e-book of "waking eyes." i thought you'd be the perfect person for the job. what? you're doing the "waking eyes" release? i totally identified with her, didn't you? oh my god. look at you. what are you doing here? i just finished my first draft of my newbook. so i'm here to deliver it. it's been far too long.
this is milan daneker. this is my daughter alice. hi. i would like to read your story. it's nothing. why don't you let me decide? why don't you just say... "hey, about that little thing that happened fifteen years ago that you never owned up to or apologized for like you should have?" it's my job. this is the new story. i'm not really sure about the ending
it's good. you made notes all over it. it only becomes real if you give me concrete details. you've written seven novels since "waking eyes." none has become the kind of cultural icon. how does a man in his forties perfectly capture the essence of a teenage girl? it's just something that i do. see that look in a guy's eyes like he wants me. the only thing that makes me feel real. your mother told me what you said.
you maybe misinterpreted something. it's perfectly natural to have feelings for someone who you look up to. i do this because i believe in your talent. i know. you were one of the few people who ever actually seemed to see me. it's a beautiful character. and i've been living in her shadow for fifteen years. you used me. "still she haunts me phantomwise..."
"alice moving under skies..." "never seen by waking eyes."
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