A masterpiece.

I’m a good judge. Of a beautiful woman. But I don’t know what constitutes a handsome man. Maybe that makes me a sexist. I have no hesitancy calling certain women beautiful. But I’m incapable of singling out a handsome man.  My Italian true love. She’s the most beautiful woman in the world. That doesn’t rule out other women being very beautiful and charming. But she leads the pack. I get my sustenance. Every day. When I either see her in the flesh. Or on Skype. I call her my vision of loveliness.  My daily treat. True and genuine beauty runs deep. It certainly does in her. So deep that I’m able to discover something more beautiful. Every time I look. It’s as if she’s a work of art. A masterpiece. –Jim Broede