Into his hundred senses of delicacy and humour, I noticed a lexicon; an enormous candy factory, filled with sweet expressions and sensitivity, luring the outrageous cabin of mine, expanding the prettiness of the English grammar, idioms, and phrasal verbs into my illiterate tiny bunch of rebellious books. I sensed a great copious number of complex poems, rich of enchanting verses, fascinating stanzas that patted on my typos gently, guiding them into a better asylum. I wandered all around his incisive vocabulary, and for a while I lost my melancholy when he sluiced my dark excursion down. I loved him with all my misery. Yes, I did.