My dearest boy,
The risk was never that I might not like you. The risk was always that I might do.
And I did.
Thank you for the memories. And for the inspiration. I left Athens with a new perspective on life. Somewhere in between your smile and the poems written in bad hand writing on your kitchen wall, I found a part of me that I was missing.
In a parallel universe, on Planet 23, last weekend is repeating itself in a continuous loop.