I remember thinking at that moment: This is how it should be. This is how the camaradarie of queers can span generations, offering solace between young and old, bonding us through friendship and sex and art. And not just among the living. Chris was part of a lineage that reached back through Forster and Maugham to Wilde and Whitman and Carpenter and every unknown soldier and working-class roughneck who had ever rolled in the hay with them.
