âWhat is more beautiful, my love? Love lost or love found? Donât laugh at me, my love. I know it, Iâm awkward and naive when it comes to love, and I ask questions straight out of a pop song. This doubt overwhelms me and undermines me, my love. To find or to lose? All around me, people donât stop yearning. Did they lose or did they find? I canât say. An orphan has no way of knowing. An orphan lacks a first love, a love for his mama and papa. Thatâs the source of his awkwardness, his naivetĂ©. You said to me, on that deserted beach in California, âyou can touch my legs.â But I didnât do it. There my love, is love lost. Thatâs why Iâve never stopped wondering since that day, where have you been and where you are now? And you, shining gleam of my misspent youth, did you lose or did you find? I donât know, and I will never know. I canât even remember your name, my love. And I donât have the answer. But this is how I like to imagine it, the answer. In the end, my love, we have no choice. We have to find.â