November 2, 20–

One cannot walk a block without seeing the rat corpses– some festering in lime pits, some spitted and roast over stinking plastic fires by drooling children who’ll sell you a haunch for a mouthful of gasoline. The pestilential reek of it is unbearable.

How fortunate I am that Jennifer has not abandoned her tatting! Working swiftly, with Adam ever at her side, she has fashioned us these three handsome gas masks; now we may travel freely, with nostrils unmolested!

Putrescent rat-vapors, farewell forever!