Dear Leslie,

In which we are all adult children

Dear Leslie,

I saw your grad film before I even met you, though Mark had already said we would probably get along. You had been shooting a film with him in Switzerland, and he said he thought we should meet. Mark being Mark, no plans really materialised, but we went to see some grad films for your year, and then I met you, and then I knew he was right.

I think everyone probably sees you as someone who is quite a happy person. It’s not comic relief, not really, but you do not possess any of the self-consciousness most of us are burdened by as we grow older. You are full of joy, unapologetic in yourself, and warm, almost immediately.

But before I got to know you, I watched a traumatic part of your life unfold onscreen. Adult Child is a courageous undertaking, not only because it features yourself as the subject, but also because it is such a painful story told with such a tender heart. I’m grateful I got to see a version of it again before saying goodbye to you last night.

Even before the film ended, I thought about how much I would like to see it again. Perhaps when this city feels the weight of your absence, or just if I miss being around someone as bright as you. It didn’t surprise me, at all, seeing how many of the people you touched showed up to say goodbye to you.

I wish London made space for you to stay. I am 100% sure that there are so many other people who deserve to be here less.

As is typical of me not making the most of my time in this transient city, with all the people that come and will inevitably go, let me say this: I wish I had spent more time with you. I wish I had gotten to know you better. I wish I had been a better friend, or that I had been even just someone you hang out with a lot more than we ended up doing.

I will miss you, Thug Leslie! You’re a very special person, and London won’t be the same without you. I hope you have the best time seeing the world before flying back to Taipei. I hope I can come visit. I hope you keep making beautiful things.

With warmth and love,
Carina