The place that stayed with me: I fled the Greek Islands to chase a letter home

‘Back home in Australia I had always adopted the shape of my parents’ ideal: their hetero son.’ Photograph: Steve MinOn

While day-drinking ouzo in a spiderwebbed taverna on the Greek island of Paros, I decided to write a coming-out letter to my parents. I sealed it in a surface mail envelope, moistened a ΕΛΛΗΝΙΚΗ ΔΗΜΟΚΡΑΤΙΑ (Hellenic Republic) stamp with my aniseed tongue and posted it.

It was the 1990s and I had only just relocated from Australia to London with Nick, my boyfriend at the time, and Julie, a good mate. We had gone across to Greece for a holiday, island-hopping, catching ferries on a whim, knowing nothing about the places we were visiting except that backpacking there was cheap.