[first lines]
Abel: [narrating] Where is the one with the face I can't live without? Let me choose the picture and see her as she is. Let me pick the angle to catch her unaware. Do you ever look at yourself? Do you know how beautiful you are? Or are you more beautiful because you can't look? Why can't I see the way you brush your hair? Where is a picture of you walking up the stairs? Reading a magazine? I don't want to tell you what to do. I want you to just do something. On your own. I want to see you like the stranger that I am, and then feel it in my chest, then my stomach, then everywhere else, when you finally look at me like you know me.
