I will never forget the first time I met James - the first day of College, at the beginning of 2007. The day had dawned hot, cloudless, oppressive, and I was frankly terrified - I knew not a single person at Trinity, and they would soon leave me. I arrived, where a meeting of sorts was taking place between the other freshman, and I went, alone, to the drinks table. The other young people seemed irreproachably cool and collected, drifted among one another and shouting with laughter. I felt faintly desperate. A boy came up to me, and introduced himself as James, and I was immediately struck by his warmth and confidence. He sat with me, and as we talked I could feel my childish fears sliding away and replaced with growing certainty. He impressed, even in that first five minutes, as being highly accomplished, and sure of himself; I would have envied his accomplishments, but something in the ease of his manner - he was uncommonly genuine - made it impossible to be jealous of James. He was a most loyal friend in those early days - my insecurity written, I suppose, across the lines of my face - I can recall him being to the first one to welcome me to parties, and introduce me to all his friends, and look after me at parties. After the first week, the memories become less vivid, more fractured, as everyone fell into the rhythm of university life, and absorbed in their own personal dramas. But I still have recollections, some almost painfully bright, that stab like shards of glass; James, his too-wide grin plaintively closed, sitting together in the JCR as he played Hallelujah on the guitar, and we took turns in singing; James, studying in the Library with me, his head slowly drooping his book as sleep overtook him; James, drunk, pretending to be a monkey at the afterparty for Cat on a Hot Tin Roof as we all cheered him on. James was solid, he was attentive, he was genuine; a faithful friend and an incredibly talented performer. I never once gauged the full extent of his many talents, they seemed to go on forever like an ocean, and I was also astonished at how he managed to pursue one of them without ever excluding or neglecting the others. It is not right, this passing; I can cannot accept that we will never see him again, the sly, cheeky smile, the bright eyes. It as though something special about the world has been ripped away; youth will never feel so majestic, or mysterious, ever again, its glowing pallor has been dulled by an ugly reality. But there is still something magic about the world - and James will always be alive, smiling at the edges of our memories, for all the rest of the days that we, his friends, try in some way to live in a world without him in it. And so we will live, conscious of the life should have been, would have been, never forget the impact, sometimes painful, sometimes unexpected, but incomparably good, that he made on all of us. Jonathan