Letter 15. Last letter
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.
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!’