Living Vicariously.

I just had an incredibly vibrant (and utterly wholesome) romantic scene come flooding into my head while I was listening to a Roxy Music track and thinking of somebody who shall be nameless. It was a real where-the-holy-shite-did-that-come-from moment. Needless to say, the lucky guy was a lot younger than I am, but that doesn’t matter. What’s the point of being a writer if you can’t stand in somebody else’s shoes now and then?