At first he was pink, a very harsh and abnormal color for a human being, but he was beautiful nonetheless. He was new and very different from anything that I had ever experienced. I stared at him for hours, and felt like a part of me was gone when I had to leave. It's been 3 weeks now, and I have plenty of pictures, but the thought of seeing him in person shoots down sadness, eradicates pain, and surpasses all logic. When I see him I feel wonderful, as if I can do anything I have ever dreamed to do. He is the push for me to get better, the reason I need to be stronger. And I have never loved anyone as much as I love him. I call him Simba because he is the first.
My brother's son. The only small redemption of NYC.