The look was far worse to resist than the frantic strain.
— Don't do that.
— Do what?
— The look.
— You're doing the look again.
— Well, I can't see it, can I? It's my face.
— Yes and you're doing a "We both know what's really going on here" face.
— We do.
— No, I don't, which is why I find the face so annoying.
For a second, two seconds, they had exchanged an equivocal glance, and that was the end of the story.
But even that was a memorable event, in the locked loneliness in which one had to live.
A glance is a spark.
We all need someone to look at us. We can be divided into four categories according to the kind of look we wish to live under. . . The fourth category, the rarest, is the category of people who live in the imaginary eyes of those who are not present. They are the dreamers.
— l seen the way you look at him.
— What? How do l... How do l look at him?
— Like you just seen your first Trans Am.
On film you put all your energies into a single glance.
Humans were built to look back; that's why we have that swivel joint in our necks.