I’m not sure what this platform is even for anymore but I need somewhere to put this. I’ve expected the call I got this morning for years. It doesn’t make my heart break less. Victor, I was wild for you when we were fourteen years old. I loved every wild thing about you. I just wish you too could have figured out, eventually, how to reel some of that wildness in, how to have something else. I’m so sad for your daughters, your mother, your sister, for everyone who loved you all these years, for everyone who didn’t know how to help you. I wish I’d had the magic recipe to help you, but I didn't know either. Most of all I’m sad for you, sad for the pain you lived in and sad that you’re not going to have the chance to grow old. The last time I saw you we ran into each other at the baggage carousel at JFK and shared a cab back into the city. I don’t remember now what we talked about. I just remember I was sitting there in that taxi next to you as we drove through the dark, and you were telling me stories, wild stories, and we were laughing and you were alive.