Dreams of my anthropomorphic future, in Beijing IAN PATRICK

OK, I'll come clean. In the best traditions of Shakespeare I will declare myself. But in the ways of the Bard, it will probably end in tears.

I am in love. She is beautiful beyond the stars, with a radiant smile. Her eyes sparkle. I am drawn to her ethereal face. She is a sonnet, a Mozart symphony, a Monet land-scape, in corporeal form.

But there's a problem. She doesn't know me and is unlikely ever to.