are you aware, my dear mr french, that certain introverted children are in the habit of tapping on the walls of their home listening for a conspiratorial knocking from deep within the stone, perhaps in their minds they see a child like themselves on the other side of the wall and they wait, holding their breath, for that child who shares their heartfelt loneliness to beat out their own childish morse code..

 

the possibility of a confident! a blood brother! an accomplice! you understand me then, the eternal hope of a human being to find a like mind, to find..

 

the bitter taste of silence, mr french?

 

it is the opinion of  science that in our individuality we find ourselves in a unique prison, designed to conform to the limits of our bodies and also, our understanding. we are not like those law breakers who have struck out against conventionality, and have been pounded in turn by the hammer of law and order, who are placed roughly in cages with birds of a feather..

 

we cannot communicate into this darkness, mr french, not by a gentle whistle, nor the ringing of a tin cup against the bars,  because there is nothing outside of where the light of our conciousness falls.

 

if we were not  so we would be diffused in the ether, we would be as fine as dust. thusly we are confined, and thus herr freud can call humanity a race of neurotics, for though we grow exponentially our perception, our fine cage cannot. death is the pressure valve mr french, death or

 

madness?

 

we understand each other. Now please forgive me my preamble, and narrate to me the events of the last four weeks, particularly, the events of the night of the fourth of the month during which.. the unfortunate incident occured..