She imagines, for a moment, life on the other side of the fence. If she acknowledged a heritage no one knew she had, or if her paintings were worth something. They're all mingling now at this party that's ostensibly for all of them, but Midori's aware she's doing nothing more than pressing her face up against the glass. They're not really in the same space at the end of the day. “I think I get Gatsby a little bit now. If I had all that money to blow I'd always be throwing parties too. And I'd invite a magician. I made a suggestion with the higher-ups but I don't think they took it seriously. Shame. Don't you think a magician would've been fun?”