My dear, for the last ten years Arletta has been coming to see me every Thursday, and when he can't come, he stops in to tell me. We're old friends. I think he likes to talk with me. Do you know, when he found me, I couldn't even walk? Some of my toenaíls were at least three inches long. He came back with fríends. They heated water, cut my toenalls, and rubbed my feet. Look, over there is the basin, all polished and shiny. Do you know hím very well? I wonder what he sees in me. I had begun to believe that no one would ever love me again.
I am done with talk of death except as it
is a part of life, one side of a sphere
whose roundness would otherwise be
incomplete. In a letter van Gogh wrote,
"The earth had thought to be flat...
science has proved that the world is
round... they persist nowadays in
believing that life is flat and runs from
birth to death. However, life, too, is
probably round."
