You mentioned once that you wanted them, "Your great work" you said, not to me, but for me to overhear, they are here. It has not been convenient to return them, you understand, but I have held on to them. I don't know why. How to get rid of them? No end seems fitting.
They are haunted, you know, nothing in the world has a more melancholy provenance. To look at them is to be filled with sadness, a thousand futures fallen unfulfilled, and as long as they've laid together in the locker I've heard them, whispering, plotting, clumsy hands and parts intertwined.
An exorcism, sprinkle them with holy water, dissemble them and set them on fire.
But no. No no no no no. No exorcism would suffice, no fragrant fumigations or withering charms will free or untangle them...
You are here, I know. And so I ask you:
What am I to do with them?
You mentioned that you wanted them. They are here. Arrange a place and I will leave them there for you to pick up. Arrange a time and I'll deliver them to you - in the city, I no longer care to make the drive out to...
If you do not claim them I will wait until Spring and bury them tenderly together in some grave, with a small ceremony and few words, on the most forlorn and desolate landscape I can find, at a crossroads far from the city and any interruption. There they can whisper and scheme and conspire together for eternity, I will guarantee them the greatest of solitudes. I know these places. And sad as I will be to leave them no longer will they haunt me.
So if you would still like them let me know.
