Attempting to clear the detritus of half a century, I came across this epistle from June 1994.
"Today I heard of a woman who had to leave her home where she had lived her life up to now. The reason was that she couldn't stop crying. She cried all the time. No one could stand it. So they sent her away, to someplace else.
I wonder---what kind of place is it where people go who can't stop crying? And are there people there who can stand the sound of crying? And is this place filled, crowded? Is there room for more? And in this place of sobbing, does anyone ever leave? "
29 years ago and it feels like yesterday. (The Puttermesser story was one of the eeriest and most frightening I'd ever read in my entire life. I've kept it but can't bring myself to even open the pages.
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