We walked with closed eyes. We never ran for long periods of time. It felt awkward and goofy. You could keep your eyes closed for a long time before your curiosity would force you to open them again. We never really feared of running into things because we only walked in strait lines. People hardly noticed because no one looks at your face any more except for a glance. People usually feared us any way. A smile played on our face when people would cross to the other side of the street. If we cannot be loved doesn’t it feel as good to be feared? Talking, chattering. We like to stay in book stores. The constant movement and thought. A warm feeling, soft and playful. Sometimes we like to focus on one, see into their minds. It’s like reading a book in the book store, we like to read but we don’t want to keep them. We come there for entertainment. It makes us feel for a short time that we are one of them; we are a book in a huge library and not one of the readers. Eventually they notice and we have to walk again, back into the darkness away from the white saturating light of civilization. Sometimes people stop us but we don’t like to be kept long and no one is strong any more. Some books need to be burned and that is why we are here. We love to taste and sample but some we must destroy no matter how long or amazing the story is. None struggle for long, eventually they will all give in.