I am listening to you sing. You used to be that quiet, pleasant boy in the music computer laboratory at lunch hours. But now you live in Toronto, and are friends with fancy producers. You dress differently. Your friends are pretty, and your hair is longer. We make and break loose plans for lunch. And I suspect it is because we both understand it is for the best. We all need enigmas in our lives.

I predict that the role you will play in my life will be important. One day down the road, I will be sitting in my west coast apartment, deliberating on my life, and I will hear about you sing on the radio. I will, of course, not recognise it is you singing at first, but some hint in your symphony will remind me of Ottawa, and the time we spent at your childhood home in Cumberland, listening to Stevie Wonder. That will bring me back to this, and I will once again remind myself that my aesthetic tastes mean more to me than any cheap intellectual venture.