I watched him watch the walls, and realized, in that moment, why I could never end up with you. The passion, the curiosity, the genuine interest in art that he exuded, but I never saw in you, was something that I could suddenly not live without. It was as though a whole black and white world was suddenly painted over with the most vibrant pinks, greens and blues. It was as though someone was with me, in my own world, in our own world, feeling the same emotions I was feeling. I fell in love with the way he appreciated every stroke, every mural, every implied message in every sprayed painting across the numerous walls on the warehouses. His lust for the murals created a drug that I could not get enough of. He was a version of me, a reflection of myself, as I watched him display the same euphoria and mannerisms that I had every time I saw the walls. He looked at art the way I looked at art, and suddenly an art walk that I had forced you to come to so many times, became more than just an art walk…it became life. I became more than a lone observer wishing someone could feel what I felt; I became merged with another soul as we bathed in the same emotions, the same breath, the same soul.