As my new Irish friend, Mr. Prufrock, described, I am sure Lord Byron was “morto” (Irish slang for “mortified”) upon realizing his error and grievious injury to Seabiscuit’s honor by calling him “Seabag”.

Though he did not apologize, Lord Byron seemed to extend the olive branch that way, though the circumstances were saddening.

Lord Byron explained he has not been well and not himself. He has slept little as he tries to comfort loved ones who are with great grief: his mother slips into depression, a friend who has lost the love of her life, and another friend whose 28 year old daughter is dying of incurable brain cancer. In an effort to cheer him, I sent a lovely photo Seabiscuit took of two trees and a poem I wrote about the photograph.

Lord Byron responded:
The photo is beautiful and the poem you attached quite the best you have sent me. I should also like to have seen a full length photo taken by Seabiscuit of you standing under the trees too…perhaps next time!

Thus, this strange adventure of two men  and this lady connected through Craigslist continues to become more intertwined even though they only know each other’s pseudonyms (though I suppose Lord Byron now knows what Seabiscuit looks like when surrounded by naked ladies.) We shall build our bridges across the pond together, and this tale shall be continued yet further. 

Seabiscuit had previously expressed an interest in experimenting with portraiture photography of women he has met through Craigslist as a new challenge to his usual type of photography (birds and landscapes), so I seized this as an opportunity for us both.
At my urging, Seabiscuit has agreed to this request. We plan to have a photoshoot next Saturday–me sandwiched between the same two trees up north, perhaps frolicking among the autumn leaves. Who knows. But I bet it will be fun, and I am excited.

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