Day Fifty - Transmission

And then there were two - or at least two more people I'd meet that school year that would prove to be very impactful in my life. One became a good friend - no more than that because, very wisely, he moved abroad many years ago, and our contact since then has been sparse at best, though the friendship, respect and admiration remains - and the other became one my good and true friends. I count very few people as friends, and he is certainly one of tyhe very best. So in my class there were these two weird kids - one of them I guess might've started school a few days later than normal, and tI heard about him first before I even saw or met him. He was referred to as 'the retard' though when I finally got to see who this kid was, I just couldn't see why he got that nickname. I'm going to call him N. He's the guy that moved abroad years ago. The other kid is S - the one who became one of my best friends. I'd come to learn eventually that they both had been classmates before, and had known each other for a long time. Naturally, they always hung around each other, interacting little with the other kids. But within a few months something momentous would happen : by chance I'd taken a comic with me to school, and S, being an avid comic book fan himself, struck a conversation with me. Soon thereafter we'd start to go to our local comic stores - of which there were only precious few. Both S. and N. were also two kids I somewhat converted to metal as well. I don't think any of them were particularly into it when we met, but the allure of Anathema, Paradise Lost, Cradle of Filth and Moonspell was far too great for them to resist, and eventually succumbed to the dark side.

But more than just the friendship, in S I'd found something of a kindreg d spirit, moreso than with Valter. It also helped that S lived not very far from where I live - within walking disstance, in fact - so I spent a lot of time at his place playing computer and viedo games, listening to metal, discussing comics and having proro-intellectual musings about everything from mythology to religion, from literature to philosophy, and so much more. S lived with his father, and he had a prodigious library and a vast collection of classic music - going to his house always felt like walking into a cathedral dedicated to culture. I always felt welcome there - and there was a time when I felt more at home there than I did in my own house. His father would come to influence how I viewed being a father to a son - and though I could never hope to replicate everything, there was much about him that informed how I would behave as a father when that time came. I hold him dearly in my heart, and last I saw him I told him as much.