Sorry for having stolen a few months of your life. I’ve only just realized you’re not the one. You can’t be, otherwise I wouldn’t be so bored with you. I can’t really put a finger on what is wrong with you. Nothing, I think. For a brief moment I was under the impression that you might be my big love; but you definitely aren’t, no more than my ex was or the ex before that. So, you have to let me go. I have to keep looking. I’m an artist, you know. My reason to live is beauty. And I can no longer find that in you.