How, as an introvert, shy young boy, realising at an early age that you are gay, can you reach out to other boys? Twenty years on James tells in a contemplative and poetic language the story of his first love in the secluded village where he grew up. I sensed loneliness, innocence, a desperate dreaming of and longing for sex, mostly guarded. Much is to be read between the lines - and I was disarmed by James’ honest search for love.
Adulthood was burning through me that year – I was feral with it, and there were days when I felt caged. Luke was a long, continuous dream in my mind, and I found myself floating into visions of him, smiling to myself when I remembered his voice, or the graze of his hand against mine. It wasn’t just that he was beautiful – it was that he seemed to have ignited some possibility in my life. There was a kindness beneath the surface, a vulnerability I felt I could trust, if only I could access it. Even in the brief hours we had spent together, Luke did not seem to suspect me. He made me feel like I was on the inside – finally a boy, and not a site of suspicion. His face, the sound of him saying may name, the image of him leaning back in the barn, glancing over me, played over and over in my mind, as though he was both my protector and my vindication.
