There is this stranger man, of whom I feel I have met before. I am enamored with his beauty, and there are butterflies knocking at my heart’s door. There is a certain intellect and class that he possesses that I have not seen before, and I feel he has a soft, kind spirit that any woman would adore. So who is this stranger man of whom I have clicked with so suddenly? I do think he is perfect, perfection is an illusion, but I do I feel that he is a special, and special is rare. Life is so odd, but I do not want to question anything. I know that I was floating all day. I feel that if happiness comes from a source that causes no pain, I feel that there is no need to question that happiness. Stranger man, just be my friend, and whatever will run its course, will run its course. Stranger man, si è stupendo.