344 East 134th Street Apt 6c

Bronx, New York 10454


Saturday, August 4, 2000


Dear A,


At sunset today I went to collect some remaining paperwork from the cubicle that was my office. It's situated in one of those cement and glass buildings with windows that can't be opened. Twenty-four hours a day, the building’s systems drone and knock. The place seemed breathless, underground.



Last night Esu-Elegbara came to me as a birdman, carrying a book of empty pages. Placing the book in my hands, he told me to collect all my memories, envision them as unidentifiable landscapes, and walk without origin or destination.



Then he said, "When you have finished your journey, return the book to me."