I'm not ashamed of it. I do it all the time, to impress every one of my friends. And I do it only to impress my own. A few years ago, she came home to the house one day. It was a cold, humid, rainy night in New York. A young man sat in the bed of his car, facing her. He looked in her direction, not knowing what he was looking at. Oh, my Lord, he said. You've never seen a woman before?. Yes, of course not, she said. Just see her. She looks almost unerring in her eyes. But why did you look at her with your beautiful eyes? he said. And still he remained silent. He seemed to be more than able to see her, to care for her. He looked upon her with contempt and hatred. Yes! I saw you with your beautiful eyes, he said, and I know you really cared for me. It wasn't just her eyes that bothered him at this moment. For he remembered the last time he saw her in the woods. He and her father sat back across from the other man and kissed, and cried after that. That is no good, he said, as they turned toward him, because they saw you with the dark eyes that could not be seen or imagined.