Theme: When we're young, we sort of live in our own worlds.

And then it's very painful when you reach that point when you lose your innocence and you realize that things aren't what you thought they were.

Innocene "The cold air stung us and we played till our bodies glowed." "If my uncle was seen turning the corner, we hid in the shadow until we had seen him safely housed." "I kept her brown figure always in my eye and, when we came near the point at which our ways diverged, I quickened my pace and passed her." "Her name sprang to my lips at moments in strange prayers and praises which I myself did not understand." (it's almost like he's put her up on a pedistool, like she's a type of goddess, when he doesn't even really know her, has never even spoken to her before = naivety) "'If I go,' I said, 'I will bring you something.'" (kind of like she's using him to get something from the bizzaar) Loss of Innocence "I had never spoken to her, except for a few casual words, and yet her name was like a summons to all my foolish blood." I had hardly any patience with the serious work of life which, now that it stood between me and my desire, seemed to me child's play, ugly monotonous child's play. I walked into the centre of the bazaar timidly (maybe this is when he begins to realize that things aren't what he thought they were, what he'd expected) The tone of her voice was not encouraging; she seemed to have spoken to me out of a sense of duty. (now he's definetely starting to realize that the world doesn't work the way he thought it did, like how he probably thought, as a child, that he was the center of the universe and everyone would want to be around him, but the girl doesn't seem to want to be around him or talk to him at all) Gazing up into the darkness I saw myself as a creature driven and derided by vanity; and my eyes burned with anguish and anger. I lingered before her stall, though I knew my stay was useless, to make my interest in her wares seem the more real.