"Can you see it?" I whispered as I gazed over the stream, past the stream laid mountains, around them, golden trees. You sat next to me on the wooden bench, waving absently at mosquitoes.
"Of course I can" You said, without looking up. I frowned and asked again, more specifically,
"What do you see?" Sighing as if I was a child, asking a silly question you looked up. I watched my eye calculate along with yours, it was lost, being forced to see things in ways it had never wanted to. You saw it as a picture didn't you? The camera in your mind took snap-shots, to review later for re-proof. Or maybe you saw it as a puzzle. Only interested in finding the answers to why you where here, grasping at ideas, leaving the truth in the wake of science.
"I see a stream, a mountain, trees." You answered my question, then contemplated more. I saw you separate the stream, the mountain, and trees. I knew you were seeing everything in groups, everything broken down into parts. This goes here, that goes there, and "ne'er the twain shall meet". You're very presence radiates your sharp mind. I've always felt young around you, yet, always felt safe. Something about your clever head, and hard to penetrate heart comforts me. Because I know, I've stolen your heart. These are mine, the trees, the earth, the mountains and stream. It's my home. You are mine, you love me, and I love you, Artemis Fowl.