Desire

It doesn't happen too often, in the very visceral way it did this afternoon, but happen it undoubtedly did on this occasion. He was 13, maybe 14, getting on a bus at Brent Cross immediately in front of me. And I wanted him. Badly. If he'd been female, and two or three years older, my desire would, at worst, have seen me jokingly labelled as a 'dirty old man'. But because he was a boy, had I allowed my wanting to show, I would've been 'depraved', the lowest of the low. The encounter, brief as it was, left me feeling emotionally drained, even borderline depressed. It's a choice, of course. All the haters will tell you so.

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B