When you can, go back to the place where they said you were the smallest and the ugliest. Stand in front of it, turn your back to it. And have someone who loves you as perfectly as he can pace across the street and take a picture of you, in the fog, on the side of the road, the barred windows and yellow brick walls behind you. You are still small. You are still ugly. This is not a transformation story told with paint and hot irons. It is not what you are that has changed. It is what matters that has changed – what is said and seen. The voice, the eye – all of it — is yours, now, and his and Yours.