This is the story about a man with expensive glasses and bare feet.
It starts with him waiting on a bridge; not shy yet shy; so sweet yet darkened;
waiting for me, you see.
The middle is all confused and muddled, heart-wrenching and too brittle to touch.
But the point is the end, just as the end is where all the points add up and connect.
Nothing matters but this: he holds me, and I hold onto him.