Quoted By:
Wilson, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Wi-l-son: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Wi. l. Son.
He was Yu, plain Yu, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. He was Willy in slacks. He was Yuyu at school. He was Wiruson on the dotted line. But in my arms he was always Wilson.
