I remember how utterly speechless I was when he first mentioned his hobby of defacing hardbound books. He’d take a scalpel and diligently cut away at page after page until it’d resemble something beautiful in his eyes. While I was never witness to his late-night soirees (he resides in London), the images he’d send me truly were out of this world. He justified making something beautiful by utilizing “shite” books that no one in their right mind would read. Paintings. Crumpets and tea. A mutual connection over our ailing physical (and sometimes metaphorical) hearts. Surgeries. Stories. Mippy and Cesure. We’ve lost touch over the past two years due to time’s restraints, but I constantly wonder about his well-being. It doesn’t really help that I’m in the IE so often; his humble California abode is situated in Riverside. Good vibes, light and love.