Dear Mercy,
I’m flying  through the air hundreds of miles an hour hundreds of miles high. I’m not Superman. We have something in common.  You, Superman and me.  Later on I’ll tell you what it is.    I know you’re name is not Mercy but I’d rather not identify you in my posts.. It’s the search engines see.  Like  souless  cyclops they’ll trawl the tides of your  life with digital dragnets. I don’t want to add to the detritus turning over the years into toxic silt upon the surfers sea bed.

But Mercy I want to shout your real name from the Minarets of Mosques from the bell towers of Cathedral’s. I want to shout it wherever people meet.  Since seeing the film I’ve barely been able to sleep. And here I am flying on a plane to do some work on my own life thinking of yours.   The same happened to you as happened to me.  Betrayal. As you grow you’ll form opinions  of your own. Many people will try to get you to believe their version.  And you’ll believe some of them. But ultimately you’ll realize that your story is your story, not theirs.

The story of your past awaits you in the future.   You will become more informed as you grow, more angry then less so.  No doubt you’ll fall to pieces no doubt you’ll come together.  They pulled me apart and left the pieces.   Here’s what they did. Look if you want to, don’t if you don’t.  It’s okay.   But why Superman?  Like Prince Tewdros, like Moses, Like Conderella , like Harry Potter, Superman was adopted or fostered like we were.  We are our own heroes, our own family.

Best Wishes