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2005-03-02 - 3:52 p.m. F�delsedag written February 28, 2005
I can seemingly be enamoured to the point of tears -- that wistful longing -- just from admiring the back of the neck of a boy or man who I don't even know. I end up just wanting to press my face into the close-clipped hair at the nape and smell his soft skin; the thought moves me in a way that's hard to explain. Feeling that longing, I somehow want to believe in love again. - - - - - - - - I'm almost embarrassed to admit that it quite made my day to get the briefest of birthday notes (email) from Cody (the first such birthday greeting from him in a few years, I think). I can't remember the exact closing, but it did not go unnoticed that it was along the lines of, "With best wishes and love, Cody." Definitely with "love." A word that has been conspicuously absent in Cody's (rare) notes for years. As conspicuously absent (in my perception) as any shred of the sentiment conveyed by the word itself. Don't assume I'm deluded by this in any way... just comforted by the warmth conveyed, however fleeting...
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