Dear baby.

The thing about letters is that no matter how many you write to romanticise life we still live in a shitty fucked up world, that includes you too baby and don't you forget it. I sometimes dream of those terracotta and pastel bungalows and blue skies. Last time I told you not to call, you ignored me, Therese picked the damn phone up and then cried for me, she didn't tell me until the next day as I was halfway through a box of char sui pork noodles from Chan's and she knows that is my favourite part of Wednesday night, you know that too, is that why you decided to be a prick and call?

Therese is doing good apart from that, she's joined a few sports teams which is funny because you know I hate any movement that isn't walking or sex and so do you.