Epistle. To: Lady Kimono Clan

It's like a base urban legend - yea I know you all live at the foot of a mountain and conduct operations from there - and it does matter where you live and what you make - yea I know you love the  country and the trees with blossoms and the old roads that have been there since time became a blink - but those landscape paintings you sent - I felt kind of wonderfully lost looking at them. Maybe I was even there  where they came from and was tucked inside them somehow like being at a movie and alone in the dark but still with a feeling all encompassed. But you can't make something from nothing. There's no mystery in creation. Even if the gods are going to pat us on the back, isn't that because the gods recognize we all already belong to a long line of thieves and characters whose cash words have always been well let's bend the truth a little. The good trick is finding it. Accidents - there are materials at hand - we enjoy getting our hands dirty - a sideways glance at the marvelous even - and even though living remains as burdensome as ever it remains deep and satisfying to poke around outdoors - all the stuff we need is right there without us. And that should be like a telling point in the mystery. Everybody else lives so far away. And it's not like they are required at the moment or anything like that. But they just live far away.