Dexter, I Love You So

What Must That Be Like? To Be Admired Before You’ve Even Said A Word, To Be Desired Two Or Three Hundred Times A Day By People Who Have Absolutely No Idea What You’re Like?

Mortified At The Speed With Which Intimacy Evaporates.

It's The Face Itself That I Love, Not That Face At Twenty-eight Or Thirty-four Or Forty-three. It's That Face.

And Of Course There Is Always Joy In Witnessing The Joy Of Others

You're Gorgeous, You Old Hag, And If I Could Give You Just One Gift Ever For The Rest Of Your Life It Would Be This. Confidence. It Would Be The Gift Of Confidence. Either That Or A Scented Candle