Letter 15. Last letter



M: Hello?



D: Mum, have you finished proofreading my dissertation?

M: What on mother earth was that?

D: I know, I know.. I just wanted to write something that I could come back to. There might be some use in it. You know. It’s like an anticrisis manual in the studio. Or ‘how to get evacuated’ plan. At least for me.

M: (silence)

D: As I said, it’s a very subjective piece of…

M:  Whatever. Check the spelling - I’ve marked the corrections in green.

D: ‘Green is a colour.’





‘And when this sun like growing hog


Rises on forthcoming

With no beggars and impaired

I shall already be dead,

Rotten by the gate,

Together with a dozen

Of my comrades


And if you think

All that is left for me

Is to exploit on other’s words

Then take, dear comrade, my stylus,

And just get along with it,

Give it a toss!’