Oh man. I'm sitting here, reading this book, imagining Julian, reading this book.
I wonder how many years ago he read it...
When he was 25? Already counseling at his graduate school, working on his doctorate, in a new place, completely different from the one where he grew up, already having lived abroad, I wonder how many love affairs he had there...
I wonder how he felt when they looked at him, all the beautiful women with their long, shiny virgin hair, and their olive skin, and the books under their arms. How they looked at him, dashing, with his black hair in his blue eyes, with the world under his thumb.
I wonder how many hours he spent dreaming of home. I wonder how many dreams he still has, that he had then, the same passion or panic still swimming in his blood.
I never want to shut off the light. I wonder what it is, the last thing he looks at before he shuts his eyes each night.
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