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(w)ri(gh)t(e)
Every letter I had received since moving to New York in 1991 shingled the walls, out of order and out of context, for all to read. A large clean table stocked with blank paper, envelopes and pens invited viewers to sit and follow the directions:
"Write a letter that would be difficult or impossible for you to send--to yourself a day in the future, to someone after your death, or to an old lover, for example. Place letter in envelope; seal and address. In the space where the stamp will go, write your specified mailing drop date. Place envelope in mail sack on floor behind you. Your letter will be sent."
![]() Letters are still being stamped and mailed.
Presented at Casa Gunga, Brooklyn, NY;
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