Another little addiction in the mailbox. Open it. It is best that you open it,
little bear. Your life, not long yet, will feel like it relies on that improperly
licked envelope, its inevitable contents. Let that be a new kind of emptiness,
an empty will, as furless and furtive as the day some other creature was born.
There is no purpose, unless you propose to deviate and propagate. Do not be
late to that party, if you plan it. You have to follow through, claws and haunches
and all that you have. Read that letter again. You can't help it anyway.
Roman Ryan 