Imagine this: you have been dying to serve at my feet all your life. You crave it more than anything. Finally I take pity on you, but instead of allowing you to kiss or massage my feet, I lock you away in a little clear jail. There's no way out. Every once in a while I come visit you in the jail and press my cute bare feet up against the wall. It is pure every time. To be so close to my feet and not be able to touch them. I tease and mock you as I wiggle my toes as I laugh. This is not what you signed up for. But what choice do you have but to stare and cry? Hahaha loooooser!