looking back, this book is so basic it’s almost embarrassing: It’s just one guy’s story, the lamest autobiography ever of falling in love. love fails for a million reasons — distance, infidelity, pride, religion, money, illness. why is this story any more worthy?
it felt like it was. It felt important. living in this town is suffocating in so many ways.
but if a tree falls in the woods, maybe it makes no sound.
and if a boy falls for the bishop’s closeted son, maybe it makes no story.













