Down on the beach, Mister Rainbow was sitting under a palm tree, looking out to sea. A child came up to him.
— Hello, my name is Quentin, and I would like to ask you an important question.
—
...
[+]
when your hair tickled your shoulders and a widow in a floral
cardigan wrinkled her nose, patted your crown, and mis-
proclaimed, "such an interesting girl." It's the same carelessness
attending other glances, when lights merge to beams and starfish
mask as stones, grinding and bumbling surf through the foam.
"They can't run or walk," you sighed. "So they just dance."