This is a letter to a friend of mine (who needs no further introduction on this site) but dedicated to my mother. Yes you, Mum.
I know I wasn’t the greatest son. I ran out as soon as I could, taking one of your suitcases. This letter starts from that time.
This is actually more than 10 letters, selected and condensed to about one page each, over the five years that it took me to find my way to safety and a new home after leaving you. Brett loaned me back the suitcase, and I went through all my letters to him looking for the best bits, my lyrical flights of those times, the mess and the musician, the street kid and the student, the whole lost muse that I was, to show you where I went.
This might seem weird, OK, but it’s the only record I have of that time and I don’t mind sharing my letters to a friend with you. They’re nothing like the letters I wrote you in that time. Brett’s a great friend, and I know he doesn’t mind me sharing, but the letters aren’t about him. They’re more about you…
With so much Love,
Your loving son, Michael