The nature of significance

"What did the text mean?" she asked, a purple scarf wrapped coyly around her face so that her eyes were partially covered like a belly dancer's veil.
"I don't know, or I'm not sure, anyway." That was his answer. She knew he would stare now. At the wall, the floor, out the window maybe, but he wasn't looking, just staring. But he never stared at her, he only ever looked.
She got up from the armchair were she had adopted a semi-Lotus position and immediately dropped to the floor. There was some rice from yesterday on the carpet, she noticed but ignored it. Instead, she crawled or shifted, uncovincingly, but somewhat snake-like, towards the couch were he sat and pondered a relevance, or a significance, or the nature of significance, or something else - hey was he watching the TV? No, his eyes weren't moving, though they were transfixed on the wall behind that girl. She's wearing a gold bra and a thong and he's looking at the wall. She's moving around so much and he's not even seeing it.
The snake moved toward the TV set and unbuttoned its blouse. 'He'll notice me though,' she knew.