"Everything that kills me...     "...makes me feel alive."     "His cheekbones are more sculped. His skin is clearer. Even from here, I can tell he's grown. He's put together, he's neat in his suit and tie, and here I am, standing in my jeans and rolled-up sleeves, my red hair desperately in need of a brush, working at the local coffee shop. "Hey, Mark." His voice is deeper than I remember it,

You took me to your favourite place on Earth  to see the tree they cut down ten years from your birth.  Our fingers traced in circles round its history,  we brushed our hands right back in time through centuries. As you held me down, you said: