استیو شاعر است

به قدری زیبا نوشته بود که دلم نیامد نوشته اش را عینا پست نکنم:

My heart feels very tender. Just sent him off to Edward. It is painful for me to not go home together. But it was also so easy to talk, to laugh - we met at a museum, which made it a little easier. But I still felt like crying most of the time we were together - not out of abject depression but from feelings of melancholy and joy and sadness and gratitude from over many years collapsing into a single moment, if that makes sense.