For every inconsistent fan, every ounce of criticism and every fragment of praise. He was the one thing running steady in the mayhem of your career as an opera singer.

At every show, he showed up. Standing out within the quiet bundles of audiences, his eyes always alertly trained upon you.

Another performance, with no particular interest in the crowd beneath your stage- until you found his familiar face again, and with it, a mutual interest in the other.