That is my windowsill earlier this morning. That is a stuff iguana's arm on the bottom left. Outside is a mediocre view of south street seaport and office buildings with really good vantage point of view into our room. And since I live like a nudist in my room, the blinds stay down.
When he left, we were both shocked at how much tears were involved. I can usually cry on command, but from him, it was like walking on the moon; somewhere only a few men have ventured. And I get to broadcast it on my blog. I hope he doesn't read this.
I'll be joining him in a month and a half after a stopover in Paris to gather reconnaissance for a move that I hope will happen later this year. From then we hope to pillage what we can of the Republic of China, and stop by Vietnam (my sweet home land). I really want to visit my grandfather's grave with him. I really want to say a few things I never got to say, in the presence of two men who love me more than life.
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