DEAR JOHN:
Well, Winter's here again, and the streets
aren't getting any brighter. See, someone
in this town rings a Chinese bell, I mean
every night, at 10:30. Weird. They've painted
the trains black, as they say, 'for the duration'.
I'm not locked up anymore - since the mad
magistrate got himself on Sunday TV. 'Meet
the Mess', it was called. He got very happy.
-
I wonder about you too. Is your unlucky sister
still alive? I've found women here who sing in
scarlet tones. They never tire out - tell her.
I can't believe what's been done to Broadway :
I'd forgotten to tell you about that. There was
a fire, and all the glass in six buildings melted.
Everything is hallucinatory now, and very rippled.
-
I don't belong to the club anymore.
Three lions got loose in Major's Mausoleum.
It can't go on like this. But, here, I've sent
this little book along. It's about our town.
Gotta' go. Here's the street car coming.
Keep reading your Bruno Schultz.
Call me.
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