Stanley William Cooper

You  and Bill were together for fifty years. Fifty years of love, of trails & tribulations, of smiles and winks across a crowed room and fifty years of being with the man you loved. Fifty years, and you told me that you would do all over again, warts and all. Bill died a few years back and now you have too. I only met Bill when he was sick, when he was blind and in a wheelchair. You were his lover, his partner and at the end his carer. When you finally had to put him into a hospice, you practically lived there as well. You made sure that you still ate your meals together, because that was what you always did.

You were born in 1936 and had met Bill when you were in your early twenties. He was a little older. You braved society's intolerances and dared to love. You found yourselves traveling overseas in a Morris Minor van/kombi van. You were two young men from working class backgrounds travelling europe and sleeping on a mattress in the back of the van. I recently heard that on that trip you and Bill had suits kept under the mattress, to keep them pressed so that you could attend evenings at the opera or theater in style. I wasn't surprised at hearing that, in fact I smiled from ear to ear, it was so you. Many years later upon returning back to Australia, you brought a house together and made it your home. You had so many wonderful stories and whenever you shared any of them with me, you glowed as did I. Your joy was infectious. I hoped that I would one day have as wonderful memories to share.

Stan, you have been such a significant person in my life. You generously gave me honest and sage like advice. You laughed alongside of me, you encouraged me, you showed real interest in my life and where I was heading. You comforted me over my own relationship struggles. You made me realise how we all have to work at things in a relationship, how we have to compromise and that you must never, never forget to have fun. You gave me tips on the what and the how. You told me things like, "when you  can, wink or smile at your partner across a crowded room" or "when you can, wherever you are, steal a touch or gently squeeze his hand". You told me that it was important to make the man I loved feel special and important. You shared what you and Bill had done for each other. You told me that it will get tough at times and be hard, but you work at it. You said that if you value the relationship and your partner, that if you really loved them, then you will put the effort in. I guess that's why you and Bill were together for fifty years, with death the only force powerful enough to separate you, at least for now. You always said that before you died, you wanted to see me attached and happy. I loved your support of me and I drank it up. You were a friend, a mentor, a grand fatherly figure, a gentle man and a gentleman. Everything about you was as genuine as it was generous.

As you became sicker, I kept meaning to visit. On one of the few visits I did make, you played me Nilsson's 'Without you'. You sang along and told me that you missed Bill. Tears welled up in both of our eyes.

When I visited you in hospice, you said that before you died, you wanted to thank me for my friendship and for being in your life, Though I had practiced my thanks to you all the way in to the hospice, I lamely replied "and the same to you", I may as well have said 'ditto' or "right back at ya!". I don't know why I was at a loss for words, as I had so much to say in response. You had done so much for me, been a role model for me to aspire to. You still are. When I stood waiting for the tram after leaving the hospice, for some unknown reason I started singing 'Amazing grace' and cried. I turned my back to the traffic to hide my tears. I wanted to go back inside to tell you how important you are to me and that I loved you, but I didn't want to make this all about me. You were dying, you were in pain and you had long known how I felt about you.

I am saddened that you are gone, not just for me, but for all those that will never get to meet you and be blessed by having such an amazing man in their lives. You are from a time of manners, a time of  grace, graciousness, humility and family. You manged to carry those values into the present and to share them with us all. You modeled them for us and reminded us of their importance and of the need of them still in todays world. All the while when I was with you, you laughed, you smiled and your blue eyes twinkled. I am comforted in knowing that your pain has ended and more importantly, that you and Bill are reunited.

Stan, thank you for being a kind and generous human being and for being my friend. Men like you are few and far between. In the time you have been with us, you have brought happiness to many. You have lent a kind ear and given many an encouraging word. You have been kind. Because of you, I am a better person. Because of you, I want to become an even better person still. You are in my heart and I'll never forget you.
Love,
matthew laurence schiavello.

               "What do you think has become of the young and old men?

               And what do you think has become of the women and children?

               They are alive and well somewhere,

               The smallest sprout shows there is really no death,

               And if ever there was it led forward life, 
            and does not wait at the end to arrest it,

               And ceas’d the moment life appear’d.

              All goes onward and outward, nothing collapses,

              And to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier."

          (Extract from section six of  Walt Whitman's 'Song of myself'.) 

Mr Chiodo the Tailor

I have the bestest Tailor in the world. I mean that on many levels. Not only is Mr Chiodo a master at his craft, he is also an amazing human being. I blogged once before about his thoughts on how we don't make time to really talk anymore and how this has impacted upon us as a society. Oh, and yes, I know that by my saying 'my tailor', it makes me sound fancy and rich, but truth be told, because I am of 'less than average height', all my pants need to be taken up, as do the sleeves on my shirts. I bet the word 'shorty' or 'short-arse' just sprang into your thoughts! Anyway, on my last visit, Mr Chiodo kindly welcomed me back with my camera, to take some photographs of him plying his trade. Not wanting to miss this great opportunity, I quickly returned and Mr Chiodo graciously let me interrupt him in the midst of his busy workload. I did want to take some pics of him wearing a king's crown with his tools laid out before him, but he humbly declined. As I took photographs, we chatted about anything and everything, from his leaving Italy in 1966, to the importance of his tailoring 'tools', the dying art of tailoring and population of the town my own father came from! I really love chatting with Mr Chiodo! I always leave lighter of spirit and much wiser.

If you are wanting a very good and honest tailoring job done, visit him at 521 High Street Northcote!

Focused:

 
Some of the tools of the trade:

Stitching by hand:

A friend drops in, so time for espresso and a chat!

Back to work:

A man who can iron! Mrs Chiodo must love this!

A little bit closer to completion:

 

All photographs copyright matthew schiavello 2012.
All Tailoring and Modelling: Michael Chiodo

Friends, the 'real' ones.

Recently I caught up with a couple of close friends for an evening of fish & chips, chat and trash T.V.  We shared funny stories, laughing at ourselves and each other. Then, quite naturally we were sharing some of the challenges that we were each facing. We listened, empathised and shared how we had coped in similar situations. As always I left feeling fortunate to have such good friends in my life. I was then reminded of something my local tailor, the wonderful Mr Chiodo had said to me- ‘Matthew, People don’t take the time to talk anymore’. He felt that a big factor as to why so many people have emotional and psychological problems, is that they don’t have anyone to have the kind of deep and honest conversations that matter most.

 Mr Chiodo was telling me how back in his day, in Italy, you would talk to your friends about anything. You would have long conversations. You were honest. You would laugh and you would cry.  You could do this because you were with friends. This meant that you could talk about anything, you would share, be supportive and most importantly, you would listen as well as be heard. Mr Chiodo felt that now days too many friendships are superficial. We seem to call call everyone we come into contact with- a friend, yet what does that mean? (I won't even go into how social media like Facebook/Myspace/Twitter etc, have warped what the term 'friend' means, or how they have corrupted the concept of what 'social contact' is).  A great point that Mr Chiodo makes is that we may not spend more than a few minutes at a time talking to these 'friends' and more importantly, so many of our conversations are held on a very superficial level. We claim that we don't have time to talk. The truth is that people seem less inclined to 'make' time for those important and deep conversations. As a ‘helping professional’ I have to agree with him. So many ‘clients’ I come into contact with are isolated and really just need some supportive friendships, those deep, trusting, open and honest friendships. They need, as we all do, someone to really talk to about what is going on. Sadly, building and maintaining these types of friendships seems to be a lost art form. Which may be good for drumming up business for the ‘helping professionals’, but is it good for us as a society?   We could theorise about how we got here, did it start with urbanisation? Were we doomed the moment we left our small towns and villages, thus often leaving our kinship groups behind as well. We moved to larger cities that seemed to cloak us in anonymity, and in doing so, isolated us. Suddenly we are no one and we know no one. Maybe we have become scared to reach out and to be open, perhaps through fear of rejection or judgement. Maybe we are scared to listen? fearing that if someone told us how they really felt, we wouldn’t know what to do to ‘fix’ it. The truth is we often only need to listen, to let that other person know that they have been heard and heard without judgement. I have no idea how we as a community re-connect to each other in a deeper way, I am just putting this 'out there'. Maybe in thinking the thought, change will manifest itself? Maybe not. Maybe we need to show others this skill? To teach it where it is not familiar and where it has become forgotten, perhaps we just need to a gently remind.

My thoughts return to Mr Chiodo, wonderful tailor and wise person. I realise that each time I go in to have something altered, we spend 30-60 mins chatting. I am grateful for his generosity as he shares his experiences as well as his wisdom. I am grateful as he reminds me of what honest communication looks like and that it is safe to do this outside of my close friendship group. We laugh, we talk seriously, we listen and in turn are heard.  I am left feeling like the luckiest person on earth for not only have great friends I can really talk to, but for also having met Mr Chiodo, tailor and teacher who reminds me and models for me, how to communicate honestly, deeply and in a healthy way that really matters.
 

What is it with….. the public nose pick and not taking a stand against it?

        I had a lecturer who would stand in front of the class and constantly pick and play with his nose. He would demonstrate a variety of picking techniques, such as: The ‘sneaky pick’- where the finger scoots up the nose a bit, stops- thinking it has been sprung, withdraws (either slowly or quickly). But then like a sneaky ninja,  it strikes unexpectedly!; the ‘hesitant pick’-where the finger just enters the nose, pauses (may withdraw and start again) and then goes in quickly and shallowly (this one is the ‘why bother’ of nose picking); the ‘quick thumb pick’-where the thumb rests just on the outside of the nose opening and then like a sneaky ninja, scoops up, in and out - bringing its stolen treasures along with it; The ‘scratch pick’- which is a deceptive bugger, it starts off as a quick scratch, but then (again like a sneaky ninja) the finger quickly shoots up, in and out.  Obviously these are but a few of the many and varied nose picking techniques known to humanity. 

        Alas, If I was enrolled in nose picking 101, or even in advanced nose picking I would have learnt much, but I wasn’t. Instead I found myself so distracted by my lecturer’s nose picking shenanigans that I lost most of the lecture! I have no idea what was being said, the act itself was too hypnotic and horrifying ‘I tells ya’!!!  A few times I came close to saying something to my lecturer…. In my head it was all worked out,  I would slam my hand on the desk, stand up and say “for the love of Christ man, stop picking your frigging nose!”, but my friends and class mates all said  ‘No, that would be inappropriate!’ Apparently my suggestion of politely asking his assistant to talk to him about it, was also seen as being inappropriate. 

         I ask you, is it appropriate to pick your nose in public, in the office or anywhere others are present? Shouldn’t we be stamping out this kind of anti-social behaviour, rather than stopping those that dare to right social wrongs? Those dear brave souls who lay their lives (and potential marks on their assignments) on the line, to stand up and say: this is not right! And it cannot be tolerated anymore!!!  Those brave souls who demand an end to student’s essays being touched by snot covered ninja fingers (and then returned back to them!). Stand tall and proud with those that dare to be brave and support them dear friend! For today it may ‘just’ be picking ones nose, but tomorrow…tomorrow it could become so much more, so much worse!

Is this adulthood?

I am in-between times… hmmm…perhaps it is more accurate to say that I feel like I am in-between places. 

I no longer feel like I used to and am not quite ‘there’ at that new place yet. I think am becoming a new person, an updated and more mature version of me, but I am yet to be certain, yet to feel complete and comfortable in this new ‘skin’. I am not really sure what is happening or how long it may take…but strangely enough I somehow trust in the process and am waiting it out. l do feel a little like I am waiting at a station for a bus that never seems to arrive, but I am strangely confident that it’s only a matter of time.

I don’t seem to know much do I? Well, that’s not entirely true… I do know that I am slightly restless and wonder when this will end... I do know that old behaviours are waning.  I know that I no longer feel dependant on the approval of my peers. I know that I feel more my own person. I know that I am more self-reliant than I have ever been. I know that I am happier and more content. I know that I recognise my own value more and... I wonder if this adulthood?

 I think the tell-tale sign for me that I am now emerging as an adult is that where I once felt like I was special and destined for greatness… now I recognise that while I am special, we all are. We all bring something different and wonderful to this life and to each other. None of us are to be singled out as being any more special or destined for more greatness than any other and that includes myself.  I recognise that the people that I have felt honoured to have met in my life, have been those who were humble and down to earth. Their honesty and openness has shown me my folly, shown me the burden that was my pride. I reflect upon the child that was I, and in casting off the shackles of my ego I allow myself to grow into my potential. I realise that it was never meant to be all about me … Ahh!!!  This is it!!! The eureka moment!! I think back to Piaget, developmental psychology and the stages of childhood development… and whilst I am rusty (very rusty) on his theories… there was something about the development of toddlers and children, moving from ego-centricity to being able to understand the world through another’s eyes or perspective… except now I am finally moving on from the egocentrism of a young adult and now experience (rather than see) things through the lives of others. I am less judgemental, more patient and accepting of that which is.  I am more grateful for what is and for what may be. I also realise that if we want to live in a better world, we need to create it, slowly and tenderly. This means doing things for others, even though we may not be seen to benefit from it. Why?, why not! We need more kindness and altruism in this world. We need to model these things for others foreign to such concepts or for those who may have forgotten them, and in doing so we show them/remind them of an alternative.

Is this being responsible? Is this adulthood? Yes! Like the butterfly that emerges from the cocoon, after living life as a voracious caterpillar, consuming everything it could, I think I am finally emerging as an adult from my own cocoon of self-centeredness. Finally understanding the complexity of it all and how contradiction can sit comfortably within. I understand more fully that without sacrifice we cannot have that which we want or need. I understand now that it is sometimes not enough to simply dream, and that sometimes you need to ‘do’.  But most importantly, I am slowly recognising that each of us has our own path to make and that no path is any more right or wrong than any other.

The key to me realising that I am becoming an adult is the understanding and acceptance that it is not so much what others are doing that matters, but what I am doing and how this affects others.

I think I have grown up.

As a footnote I want to mention that as I typed these thoughts I realised the music flowing from the speakers and into my room as Explosions in the sky’s lp “The earth is not a cold dead place”. A double lp consisting of three sides of music and the 4^th side being etched vinyl with the words -the earth is not a cold dead place because you are breathing, because you are listening. This is written as a sentence that never ends and never stops inspiring. I breathe in and listen to the world which is, and I sigh contently for right now I am filled with love and hope. 

Smog, Rock Bottom Risers and opportunities for us all. - Repost of a piece originally posted 23/04/2007

For some reason this old blog piece came to mind this morning and wouldn't leave. I was reminded about some intimate conversations that came out of it, friends sharing their own stories, some tearfully. I was reminded of how much I also loved Smog's album "A river ain't too much to love". It was constantly on the cd player and it now also sits amongst other records in my vinyl collection .
I thought that now would be an appropriate time to revisit this piece. Part love letter to the album, part recollection of my past and part comment on the responsibilities attached to education. It personally reads as a little disjointed in parts, but out of respect to the piece and the time it was written, I will leave it intact albeit with a few very minor changes.
regards
matthew

 

Sometimes I think of where I came from and where I am now, and I don't know whether to feel pride or awkwardness. I started with nothing and now I have something, but what does that all mean? Have I left behind all I know and all I was, only to arrive someplace else, someplace full of strangers? Has my life become something better, or just something different?

Bill Callahan (also known as Smog), seems to understand. He talks of those close to him helping him transcend who he was and then leaving them behind: 'I left my mother, I left my father, I left my sisters too. I left them standing on the banks …they pulled me out of this mighty, mighty river' (from 'Rock bottom riser'). The track 'rock bottom riser' is an acknowledgement and an ode - 'I brought this guitar to pledge my love, to pledge my love to you. I am a rock bottom riser and I owe it all to you.' Unfortunately sometimes when we change and rise above, not everybody understands and Bill knows this: 'Why is everybody looking at me, like there is something fundamentally wrong? Like I'm a southern bird, that stayed north too long' (from 'Palimpsest'). He seems to understand my dilemma.

The album is called 'a river ain't too much to love' by Smog. It is sparse and warm. When you listen to it, you feel like a friend is confiding in you. It makes you feel special and connected. Every time I listen to it, I tend to reflect on my life and myself. I have always felt different, like I was meant for something more, something better and bigger. Arrogance at any early age?, I don't know.

I grew up in Collingwood, an inner city suburb of Melbourne. Unlike now, then it was full of factories, migrants and the poor. I lived on a housing commission estate and like many others, had to deal with the general issues around growing up and going to school, as well as issues all to common in environments such as ours;  families struggling to deal with feelings of disappointment, helplessness, poverty, failure, bullying, anger, abuse and alcoholism. I left school at 16, part way through year 10. I worked in a shoe factory for a year and a half and then started an apprenticeship as a cabinet maker. After six months into the apprenticeship I realised that this was not the life for me and I decided to go back to school, despite pressure from some family members not to. It was not long after I returned to school that we were taken on an excursion to a local textile factory. We were given a tour and told how the textile industry had changed over time. We were also told how much money we could make a week working there. For 16 year old's (I was a bit older), who mostly came from families living on unemployment/sickness benefits or low working wages, it was impressive amount. I recall many eyes ablaze at the thought of all of that money, and on a weekly basis! We were told that we were at, or approaching the age where we could leave school and enter the workforce if we wanted to. Any interested people, and there were a few, could speak to our tour guide after the tour (who also happened to be the foreman).    

I remember feeling angry at this, outrage in fact! This wasn't an educational outing, it was a recruitment drive. It was the academic establishment offering us up as factory fodder, because they felt that it was all we could ever be. They didn't seem to have the inkling to push us further academically, or perhaps the ability or funding to do so. In my experience in the factory environment I found it repetitive, monotonous, the pay terrible, and on only a very few occasions did I have any feelings of worth or accomplishment. I realise that this is not the same for all, but surely the education system shouldn't just give up. Or worse, make a judgement that this should be the calling of some students, and then whitewash it as an educational field trip.

Children in low socio-economic areas already have so much stacked against them, that we can't just give up on them because we lack vision. Sure it can be tough for all involved, some kids manifest their home frustrations through aggression at school, some have been convinced by parents that they won't amount to much anyway and are wasting time at school when they could be out 'there' earning a wage. The education system has a responsibility to reach out and ensure all receive a chance in life to be the best they can, to realise their potential. We need to ensure that we are creating equal opportunity for all to succeed. Especially in times like these where IR laws are disadvantaging workers even more, with lower wages and conditions. Historically the poor always come off the worse for wear. We need special programs not only for the academically challenged, but also for those who have challenging home lives that may affect their ability to concentrate and achieve their full potential, we need to reach those that do not believe that they can achieve or even deserve to. We need to inspire and raise up the hearts and hopes of those around us. As members of a 'civilised society', don't we have a responsibility to each other to support, love and encourage? Education is fundamentally important in life. Programs that assist the disadvantaged to reach their potential may exist out there, I hope so, I just know that I didn't see or experience them myself when I was at school. 

I stop typing and turn my head toward the stereo. The song 'say valley maker' is playing. The lyrics resonate with me; 'bury me in water, and I will geyser, bury me in fire and I'm gonna phoenix'. I understand the sentiment. I will be all I can no matter what you try to do to stop me. I will succeed because I am strong of will and mind, I am focused and I am driven to do so and above all I am stubborn. I let my thoughts return to the music that is playing. The simpleness of the words contrast with the richness and depth of their meaning. I smile. The track 'Let me see the colts' starts with 'Knocked on your door at dawn, with a spark in my heart'. What wonderful imagery. I love Bill Callahan's use of language. It's the language of the everyday person. He sometimes repeats phrases and ideas to stress their importance or the person's inability to express themselves any other way. Just like real life, just like myself at times. He casually mentions religion, and in a few simple lines reduces the arguments around it to a basic and honest level: '… god is a word, and the argument ends there.' (from 'I feel like the mother of the world').

These are but some of many the moments of beauty that the album is infused with. One of the most enduring aspects of 'a river ain't too much to love' is the ability it gives listeners to explore the layers of meaning and sound over repeated listens. I personally thank Smog/ Bill Callahan for the hope he provides in the lyric 'no matter how far wrong you've gone, you can always turn around' (from 'I'm new here'). I guess I could turn around and return to whence I came… but would I fit back in? do I want to? No. I have become a different person, a better person than the one I was and I am closer in becoming the person I have wanted to be for so long. Albums like this give me cause for reflection and in doing so allow me to realise just how far I have come on my journey and just how much I have achieved. They remind me to celebrate. They also provide comfort in letting me know that while I may feel isolated at times I am not alone. As for the sadness I sometimes feel during remembrance of what I have left behind, I have learnt that we can't take it all with us and somethings are better left behind. I have made sure that the things most important to me aren't left behind, like the ones I love, my mother, my father, my sisters, my brother and my friends too. As for my transformation, I owe it all to us.

 

a few socially unacceptable things

Recently a few people have commented on my height (or lack thereof), someone actually said 'your short for a guy' and the other person said 'your cute, but short'... nice. At the time I forget to recite what my mum told me to say if ever anyone picked on me because of my height- she said 'tell them that your mum said that good things come in small packages'.. .yeah I seem to remember that working really well in Primary school when i was being called 'shrimpy' ;-)


Something else that happened was that I saw a non English speaking client I hadn't seen in a while...she was excited to see me (can you blame her?), and gave me what I assume she thought was a compliment.. she said 'oh... your looking healthy' and then pointed her fingers accusingly towards my stomach and then drew her hands out to make the shape of a very large ball.. yeah i get it! I have put on a few kilos... and can now possibly be described as a short fat and bald man who wears glasses, which is kind of a hot look... if I don't say so myself, throw in a bow tie and WATCH OUT city of Melbourne ;-)

In all seriousness though, commenting on a persons height or weight??, this one is a no-brainer, come on !!! who doesn't know that you can't do this?, regardless of your cultural background!
Having said that, I did ask a lady who is a 'tall midget' if she asks taller people to get things off the supermarket shelf for her, only because I do that myself sometimes. She didn't really answer.. she just gave me a 'yeah, the supermarket can be tricky' response and her eyes went all large and then she just stared at me in silence. Are these signs of a crazy person ?? Because I think they might be...


Something else which is not quite right:

A very mature mandarin speaking client, who doesn't speak English and seems to love me (what is it with people loving me??), saw me after a month or so and excitedly bowed to me, did a little Namaste/hands in prayer position thing and said something in Mandarin.. ok, that is very acceptable and encouraged... but made me feel pressured to return the gesture..so I bowed, did a namaste/prayer hand thing and because I don't speak Mandarin, I made something up that kind of sounded Chinese, and figured that if I said it fast enough, he wouldn't notice it was made up, but be delighted with my terrible effort... Yeah, I know.. why did I do it??!!! Not socially acceptable, but as I was put under pressure by him to return the gesture.. I don't think that makes me entirely to blame.

Last on the list is people sneezing.

While sneezing is socially acceptable, provided that it is done in a respectful manner and that you don't spray your fine misty and slightly smelly nasal droplets everywhere (I have no idea why a 'sneeze' smells, but it does)...If someone says 'bless you', you HAVE to respond. A few times recently, I said 'bless you' in the tram to a fellow passenger and I received no response, which is not socially acceptable! I had to stop myself from pointing out to them that I had said 'bless you '... I did however look around the tram for support and gave other passengers a little nod with raised eyebrows (which said 'you saw what just happened, can you believe that?!?') and then l gave a sideways look at the offending passenger in a 'Tsk Tsk' manner. Surely this is the kind of thing the transit police/inspectors should be looking out for?


What is happening to modern society???

The TV generations.

Romantic comedies have quick fixes and neat happy endings. If it is a TV serial then it is all done within 30 mins of screen time (well.. minus the advertisements). Do you know what is being modeled for us? Attitudes of now!- instant gratification, shallowness and selfishness. I look to my own Favorite T.V. shows; Seinfeld, Curb your enthusiasm and The I.T. crowd. All have dysfunctional relationships. They all have selfish characters that we laugh at and love.. but should we be encouraging them? In Seinfeld the relationships are all transient, and they all find much fault in the person they are dating and subsequently dump them because of it… These are my models, this is where I learn what is right..I ask myself what do I know of love and successful relationships? I have some fantasy that my partner will facilitate me in becoming a better partner, but am I delusional and/ or placing too much on their shoulders? Do I need to come to the partnership ‘table’ ready to go? I think I am ready, but I am often wrong. I do know that I have learnt, and am currently learning and I know that learning is a continual process, but do I know enough? Will I meet the right man, the perfect man for me and then lose him due to my own stupidity? I guess I am asking, do you learn these things about what makes a good relationship, only whilst in a relationship? do you become better through your experiences?, through making mistakes along the way and should we fear these mistakes will lose us our loved one?  I know that I am more discerning now than I have ever been and where I would once settle for a cute man that might have been; controlling, overbearing, selfish and/or not really commitment to me 100% , now I will not ‘settle’. Now I know what I want, I look for a cute man with a beautiful heart and soul that I connect with and I will not settle for less, why should I?.. Perhaps this is why I am still single?, perhaps…but I do know in the pit of me that I will not remain this way for ever and experience has taught me one thing -it is wrong to settle.

The question arises who am I to judge what constitutes a beautiful heart and soul and who has one?

I am no one but I, and the I that I am, may one day be seen has having a beautiful heart and soul and may be similarly wanted in return.