Came home from Dunedin Sunday night really tired.
Letter had been waiting since Friday from G. When I read it I cried.
He had been reading The Prophet and had been thinking about me.
I was uptight all weekend cos I knew G would have been at the concert (Mayall was OURS).
And now I find this letter. I keep dreading meeting him again cos I’m so uptight.
I still can’t get over the incredibility of it.
He was 18 then and I was 17; it only lasted a month.
In June it’ll be two years since we met — now I’m nearly 19 and he’s 20. Grown-ups? Never.
We are children of forever.
