My friends wants to wear a dress. This is the desire of his heart. Surrounded by judgment. Afflicted by bigotry and hate. He celebrates this desire.

It is in his speech and in his movements. In the way he breathes and smiles. As if the dress is much more than cloth and fashion, but an expression of something far deeper, perfect and pure.

Someday my friend will be free. His dress a reality, and yet, I can’t help but feel that the dress he wears now is far more perfect, beautiful and fabulous than one we could see.