In life, you are rarely given a chance to rewrite “wrongs”, much less re-live the “rights”. We trundle through the ebb and flow of our mundane routine leaving nothing to chance.
At 14, LF was uncomplicated, faultlessly innocent, utterly adorable and calm that I desperately needed yet couldn’t hold on to. Towering me with his broad swimmer shoulders, penknife thin slits for eyes coupled with a hearty laugh that caught my attention before my heart latched on.
On hindsight, LF set the tone for all the boys from then on. As we sat there, I realised that a decade, four countries, three continents, a couple of bus stops and a few relationships later, we are right back where we first started. Of course, we are better dressed now. At least, I am.