My summer in London was one of the most painful, beautiful, disobedient, turbulent, and for all of the above reasons, formative summers of my life.

- My wings finally sprouted. I have joined my fellow pigeons on the wire about Rowen Ten Pin Bowling in Finsbury Park.

- I drank 37% of the Thames River with a straw but sweat it all back out on the Tube (Expect significant delays while they drain the tunnels).

- I became a tree by a river in Bute Park.

- I lifted an 18 Wheeler clean off the ground to rescue a baby clover sprout.

- I died three times and was reborn four (don’t ask… I don’t know what happens with my extra life. I’m hoping I can trade it in for a David Beckham Stamp collection).

- I picked up fox diarrhea with a Sainsbury’s bag…….

“Friendship” is one of those words drenched in golden kindergarten tinsel, strangulated by it in fact, for such adornment hasn’t fit the term nor the crime since you were peeing your pants at the Halloween costume march…….

I’ll skip the pleasantries and cut to the chase. You saved my life. I don’t mean that in the colloquial way. You saved my life. Well... I’m not saying I’d be dead without you -- there’s no way to know about alternate timelines -- but when I was alone and sad and my days were dark and my nights stretched on forever because I didn’t sleep and my social life was so quiet I could actually hear the party I wasn’t at that was going on three blocks away (or megaphoned into my ear by Facebook), you were there………