He’s a man of good will, I see. A man of challenge with the life to find the royal virtue in it/in himself. It’s beyond thought that there’s not one soul on this earth to dislike him. I already told you. He’s a man of good will.

 

I’m aware that my words may not sound as trustworthy as someone else’s. It is a fact and I’m not trying to conceal it at all. Yeah, I love him, indeed. So what? It doesn’t change the truth a bit. He’s still a man of good will.

 

I was just a kid, I say to myself, when I first met him. I was just a kid, I say, when my life had its turning point –one of its turning points- by this stranger/foreigner, this all alien personality. I was just a kid,
I repeat, and I haven’t grown up into someone fond of memories of a kid.

 

I got my writing habit back then, though. He became the one –on this earth again- to give me the courage to create sentences of my own. He has spelled me with the power of his own words, so I had to keep that spell alive. And I had to use that spell against/for him, hoping that it may work out fine at the end. The end of my words.

 

He was just a man, I say to myself, he was just a man of good will and perfection. He is just a man,
I say, just a man to be proud by heart to know. He’s a man of perfection, I repeat, he is a man with all the faults and failures building up a castle of perfection in all, not some piece of fake heaven. A castle,
I insist, he’s built as a castle consisting of all that a perfect man can ever have.