My chief spy—a young woman who is not best pleased by the turn of events—tells me you are spending the New Year together, investigating connections. I am naturally consumed by curiosity. Perhaps I will come and consult your archive. I do wonder what you make of young Michell. Don’t eat him, dear Maud. He isn’t in your class. Academically, that is, he isn’t, as you may have discovered by now. Whereas you and I could have had the most delectable talk about towers above and under water, serpent tails and flying fish. Did you read Lacan on flying fish and vesicle persecution? I miss you from time
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