Dear Shepard Fairey, Graham Chapman, John Cleese, Eric Idle, Terry Gilliam and Terry Jones,

Thanks.

Sincerely,
AP Saulters

( P.S. )

Dear Glistering Suncore,

Another returned letter. 'Address unkown,' this latest one says. 'No such number,' said the one before it. Who knows why I'm writing this one.

Not knowing where you are, I imagine the possibilities. Moved to Algiers to research the early life of Albert Camus, allowing your house to fall into disrepair. Abducted by ( Read more... )

Dear Lever-puller ( Read more... )

Dear library,

I've worked with you for four summers. Tomorrow I will start my fifth. I will bike to you as many days as I can, as many days as I can outrun the evening pop-up showers. I will refuse to remove 'erroneous' ten-cent late fines even when patrons argue with me with the passion of Voltaire defending free speech. I will shelve and ( Read more... )

Dear Marie Celeste,

To put it properly, you never existed except in "J. Habakuk Jepson's Statement," a short story by an Arthur Conan Doyle who had not yet received knightship, not yet even imagined Sherlock Holmes's address. For sure, your ancestor in history, the Mary Celeste, a New York-based half-brig bound for Italy, turned up near Gibraltar ( Read more... )

Dear Grandfather ( Read more... )

Dear Sage of the East Tower ( Read more... )

Dear Glistering SuncoreThe breeze outside is cool like it is on those evenings in October when it is neither summer or autumn, except the sun is out and Easter is in two days and the world is coming alive again, this time. I am sitting barefoot on a couch in Columbus's only free-standing Starbucks. I'm not a coffee drinker. I don't know why I ( Read more... )

Dear Green Apple ( Read more... )

Dear Glistering Suncore ( Read more... )