Excuse me? "Liberal bubble?" "Navel gazing?" "Pull myself together?" Uh, no, I don't want to watch the live stream about prepping for the Third World War.
But before I have a chance to find out, I always shift my gaze and tell myself that it's impossible.
The King's weary gaze again shunted: Clea, myself, the disinterested postmistress, the Chief outside, who now ground a butt into the curb with his heel and turned his head to follow the progress of some retreating buttocks.
Sweden, Switzerland, Australia and Spain have all been objects of my affection, but recently I've fixed my gaze Eastward and found myself spending a lot of time at a certain airport named Narita.
In fact, there was a time not so long ago when I walked in a parade hand-in-hand with my girlfriend, unable to stand the gaze of passersby; finding myself wishing desperately I was stood with them on the other side, looking in.
As a teenager, having to grapple for the first time with the force of the white gaze, I'd ask myself this question: how do you live without fear or debilitating anger in a world where you're constantly reminded that your body doesn't belong to you?
What our coach wanted me to do was to accept his gaze and say to myself "That feels nice.
— Catherine Cafferty (@magpieyouhid) 7 Mar 13 Warden & I caught gazes; I saw myself with his eyes.
Sometimes when it rains I find myself gazing up at the sky, mouth open, gullet slowly filling with rain.
A hundred and fifty years ago, I could imagine myself gazing at a rainbow and wanting to understand it.
