I sense great vulnerability. A man-child crying out for love, an innocent orphan in the postmodern world.
I see a parasite. A sexually depraved miscreant, who is seeking only to gratify his basest and most immediate urges.
Grody and unattractive, yet I detect a nobility of attitude, and unwavering loyalty; much like a Saint Bernard.
He’s a creature barely hanging on to existence; like a cockroach clinging to a sewer grate.
His struggle is man’s struggle. He lifts my spirit.
He is a loathsome, offensive brute, yet I can’t look away. He transcends time and space. He sickens me. I love it.