The magic of perspective

So I picked up Neverwhere at 10. I think I missed reading novels more then I let myself remember. I wonder if American people understand British culture better then they do, because they seem to understand ours better then we do. It sometimes feels like we are conjoined twins, irrevocably seperated during puberty. Our twin knows us better than we know ourselves, because they look with the luxury of perspective that only comes from a mix of distance and familiarity. They understand what is taken for granted, while obliviously we stumble forward like sharks knowing that to stop is to die. I feel worse for them, then I imagine they must feel for themselves. Partly because I am jealous of the state I percieve, but mostly because I am jealous of the perspective.