Dear Mother

Over a decade ago while sitting at the Cow’s End in Venice Beach I hastily scribbled a letter to my mother in my notebook.

Dear Mother, 

I think I am going to drink.

Love,

Michael.

I drank shortly after that, ending three years of sobriety. It was absolute hell what followed, but when I got sober again it led me to discover photography. Ever since that first letter, I have been writing them as I traveled and lived around the world.