Writing letters

It is 1992. You are sixteen years old, standing before a letterbox with the envelope, sealed and stamped, halfway inside, still in your hands, with a four-page handwritten letter. If you let go, it’s gone. The die is cast. The wheels are in motion. The Rubicon will have been crossed. Today’s kids will never know the combination of ink, spit and cold sweat. Writing letters was a messy business. That scene above is what I remember from the first time I sent a letter to someone at that age. In the early nineties, writing letters was what many of my age did. I made a lot of music (as I do now) so I met people my age all over my country and even beyond and some of them wanted to stay in contact so we exchanged letters. After the initial responses, I got some confidence and letting go became less of a problem. I must still have all the responses, but I have no idea what I wrote myself. How could I have? Cycle to the local supermarket and use the copier to copy my letters before sending…