Philip Cain turned 18 five days ago.
I remember one evening last year, he came to visit Amy at Uni with is friend Mitchell. After a beer or ten, both were rather willing for me to paint their faces with lipstick, ...i say willing, but what I really mean is they were too drunk to stop me. I can only imagine his face the next morning when he realised it stained. That was one very red faced train ride back to Nottingham indeed.
He died today.
Is life really this brittle? To be alive and to be so precious seems such risky business when it can take only a few hours to take somebody away. Amongst the beauty of such wonderful existences, sits rare darkened days like these. Can't the world be a safe place?
Today is a very sad day.