His name is Charles. Isn't that the most perfect name you ever heard? And I found him on a corner where he was playing There is a light that never goes out on his gitarr, in front of him was no hat or open gitarr case. He just wanted to play he later told me. When I passed him, my heart stopped and I simply couldn't take another step. I sat down on the sidewalk, lit a cigarettes and very quietly sang along Oh to die by your side is such a heavenly way to die. After that, we went for a coffee and then back to my place. He hasn't left since , and I don't think I ever want him to. I gave him one of Toms old shirts, it felt really macabre watching a young and very much alive boy wearing that old dead mans shirt. My mother would have had a heartattack. But on the other hand she is a very hystericall woman.
We've opened at least twelve bottles of red wine and watched Sunset Boulevard three times, but I haven't been able to take my eyes of his hands. They are the most beautiful hands I have ever seen. The freckles on his forehead makes me smile, and the way he smokes reminds me of James Dean in Young Rebell.
There is seriously something wrong with me. I think I like him and I never like boys.