I can understand Narcissus. It wasn’t all his fault, what plagued him. Maybe his muscles felt like they belonged in the world, atop the earth, like sunshine on a garden, warming it and wishing it well, even when swept up in too strong a spell…. Perhaps the curve of his face was an enchantment, a fire-starter; maybe his hair had a shine to it he had never seen anywhere else in the world, and he just loved to stop and stare. Sometimes for hours. I, uh, I can understand that.