Dear Daryl,

When we were together last, I confided in you that I had this crazy thought of abandoning the financial security of my soul-crushing job to completely start over as a photographer. I didn’t even own a camera. With fire in your eyes you told me, “Do it. You’d be amazing. Do it. Not because you want to, because you have to.” Three days later, you were gone, and what’s important in life never felt so clear. So, I took your advice.

NYTimes Review: ‘The Dreamer Examines His Pillow’ Talks of Love, Lust and Lots More

It means nothing. It means everything.

I wanted to tell you…but I don’t know how.

I love you.