think about how brave it is, to do this: to queue up, and meet your hero. There's something incredibly intimate about reading, or listening, or looking at someone else's art. When it truly moves you--when you whoop when Prince whoops in Purple Rain; or cry when Bastian cries in The NeverEnding Story, it is as if you have been them, for a while. You traveled inside them, in their shoes, breathing their breath. Moving with their pulse. A faint ghost of them imprinted, inside you, forever--it responds when you meet them, as if it recognizes its own reflection.