I don't want any promises, I won't have false hopes, I won't be romantic about myself. I can't live in their world any longer, she told herself, listening to the voices back of her. Let them tell their stories to each other. Let them go on explaining how things happened. I don't care. At least I can know the truth about what happens to me, she assured herself silently, making a promise to herself, in her hopefulness, her ignorance.
There was just this amazing individuality.
It's just a whole different world of optimism and fearlessness, women taking off their bras and dancing around naked, and a political hopefulness and involvement.