And so we started to learn about their lives, coming to hold collective memories of times we hadn’t experienced. We felt the imprisonment of being a girl, the way it made your mind dreamy so you ended up knowing what colours went together. We knew the girls were really women in disguise, that they understood love and even death, and that our job was merely to create the noise that seemed to fascinate them. We knew that they knew everything about us. And that we couldn’t fathom them at all.