Gold.

It's complex isn't it? This life.

The more time i spend with Welsh, the more i feel our colours are mixing. I'm yellow and he's red and we seem to be creating a particular shade of gold that i have never seen before. It's like the colour of the sunset we watched last night mixed in with the quarter of his iris that is flecked with orange, mixed in with endless pints of lager, mixed in with the fire in my stomach when I see him after a long absence.
It's the space we are creating between us. Our own special dynamic. Our private jokes and all the ways we recognise each other. It's sunshine and passion and a broken wine glass so-lets-just-share-this-one. It's the beginning of a road we were both walking anyway.

He is impossibly sweet. Sentimental. Creative. He has hidden depths that house a solemness. A playful seriousness and possibly the tendency to over analyse any given situation. Caught between reaction and reflection, he moves gently, thoughtfully, carefully. Except for the way he actually moves. Then he is like a bull in a china shop. He surprises me everyday with his insight, his patience, his quick wit and slow smile. Just when i think i have him pegged, a new dimension emerges and i remember he is 30 years in the making and i have know him for a tiny 3 months.

He was born in a village with snow and sheep and castles. He had 20 kids at his school. He fell in love with a girl who had blonde hair and my name. Then he grew up and got on a plane and found me. I was not exactly waiting for him. I was busy leaving a marriage and vowing to never fall in love again because it hurt too too too much to be worth it.

You know what else is gold? Goldfish.