But do you understand what I mean when I say you look like art? That you’re the frame hanging above my bed, the last thing I see before I close my eyes. That you’re all of my favourite colours, like a personalised rainbow after rain- stretched across white walls. You’re the dimensions of my heart, the pondering of my mind, the faith in my soul, the captivity of my liberation. I have read you countless times, and I read you over and over again, like underlined sentences highlighted in my memory. When I say you look like art, I mean you’re a complete enigma to me, but all of you makes me stop dead in my tracks and I can’t look away because something in you understands something in me, it always has.
— Eliot Knight