The other day, I found a crumpled letter in a wastepaper basket. What was I doing snooping through the garbage? An ordinary person might think it unusual to browse through trash cans, but I find it actually quite worthwhile. You really can get to know someone by searching through their trash. I’m serious. And I’m not talking about fucking gross shit with moldy food, etc., etc., obviously. Anyway, this letter that I found was so curious and utterly real that the only thing I could do was have it published here. And it had beautiful handwriting. Besides, it’s a work of pure literature — and don’t worry I changed all the names. And if you ask me what the real names are, I’ll kill you.