Dear Wigleaf,

No time to write this postcard, which is even now being pulled from my hands by scores of mail carriers. There are so many, and they have no mail to carry, and they keep me writing night and day so that each has at least one piece of mail to deliver every afternoon, some scribbled-on envelope floating loose in his or her great canvas bag. I don't understand how they're all still employed, but if my constant letters keep them going, keep them in jobs, then how can I stop?

Please send pencils. All my love,

Miles 




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