“Perhaps another time, when our words are less likely to be swallowed up by the music, I might share stories and scripture with you that you might find enlightening. I suspect… I suspect that you are a lot like I am, like so many of my people tend to be. We spend too much time judging ourselves against an ideal. There is… a fixation on beauty that makes us blind.” So says the womer who can no longer be blinded by beauty, at least not in the literal sense. Her voice is heavy with concern, but it stops short of pity. She doesn’t think less of him.