At this moment, you are here. In the present. Dedicated, even for a split second - to smile, laugh, ponder, troll, shed a tear or just turn the page. There isn't a need to dwell on a past memory or hope for a projected future. There is no intention. You read and move on...as Ryūmizu, like flowing water.
Leopold: I say Marty...have you ever listened to a song that made you want to run up a flight of stairs and punch the air?
Marty: (Blank Stare)...
Leopold: Yes? No? (Sighs) You know how it is. It's like nicotine - one absorbs it in spite of one's precautions.
Leopold: I say, it's the bee's knees. The cat's whiskers. The eel's ankle...The snake's hip...
Leopold: Honestly. (Sighs) It's makes one's heart go pit-a-pat.
Leopold: I beg your pardon? Perhaps you didn't speak? I am impertinent. I must be getting on. Thank you for your society. Unless I stay and perhaps indulge in smoking another blunt?
Marty: One-more-word...and I swear man, I'll take you with me back to the future and get you ass-raped by a french bull-dog.