You, the man who is not silencing me, shutting me up, letting me shout. For a second that will be everything I want from this world. A moon landing of sorts. As if I finally have the permit to be myself. Like someone stamping my passport and saying, yes, you are free to visit this land, free to shout all you can, all you want. I am not sure we have met. I do not think you know that I exist. Trust me, love, you will.
