You: Elegantly dressed gentleman with flowing hair and beard, patiently waiting for something...perhaps the bus, perhaps me.
Me: Siberian snow princess in the passenger side of an electric blue car, gazing at you with deep desire, getting all hot and bothered in my furs. I mustered the courage to wave, and you gratified my efforts with a subtle tilt of your head that said “sup.”
My friends thought you might be homeless, but I know that you are at home where ever you are—languishing on Spring Garden Road, or tenderly unearthing mushrooms in a pathless woods. Also you were impeccably dressed, so I'm pretty sure you have a home, which is great because I am so tired of living in my parents' attic. Let us abandon the city and return to the embrace of nature. You can wear my fur hat, and I shall keep myself warm in your beard. —Venus in Furs