From the Letters
Dear M[ ],
Good, I’m glad [
] how are [
]you know[
]the child[ren
]I was talking to some[one
] about[
]how it’s all w[e’ve?
]got somehow[
]to make it st[ay?
]together[
th]e excavation i[s
] going well. The tri[ck
] is the reconstruction.[
]I have something [
]for y[ou?
]it’s[ ]not much[
]of [a? the?] gift[
]I can say on[ly?
]that you need [ ] i[t?
[Dear D ,?]
When you say [
]you can give[
]me something[
]what can I say[
]but thank you. The children[
]continue to grow [
]like bamboo. Sh[?
]continue to find[
]like they say in[
]Italian[
]you[ ]are[ ]miss[
]Today I walked along the lake and thought that I
[ ]could see the other side of things
which is just [ ]folded over on itself[
]sing[
]ing to me
]tu[ ]me[ ]manch[
]I have found this[
] to be harder [
]than I expected [
]it’s dark here[
]you[ ]shouldn’t be surprised[
] che tutto me [
] mancanno [
Dear M[ ],
Good, I’m glad[
]hobby[ ]studyi[ng] Italian [
] io te aiuterò praticare [
] the children would love it[
] here with all the history [
]funny that they’re reenact[
]ing what I[
]to reconstruct[
]I’m glad too[
]Let me[
](will you?)[
]quote one of the pap[y]ri we’ve
]worked on[
]a kin[
]d
of[
]travelog[ue], perhaps? Here[
]it is:[
]we do not re[ ] you.
They say you are just [ ]and the opposite of[ j] us[t.
]we need each other.
They say if we ] m[ake each other whole.
and ]if we meet, then we will [
be] forgotten players [who?
]disagree on which way to market, ] and?
may be?[ right.
grab hold of the] horns [of sacrifice?
…………………………………………………………..
They say ] [ time ] [ tents, pegs: ] [ pillar of fire [
]will not find what [it] seek[s?.
]They say tent of[ ]presence, laver[
]of Shadows, [
]we will not become complete.[
]that you’re w[ ]ing
again[ w]on’t you send one?[
]tell me what[
]the days are like[
]without me[
[D]ear [D ,(?)
]sickles and perhaps [
The children built ste[p-ladd]der sand castles
to talk to the g[ods(?) T]hey fought, built [
]some more. In [
] A tower [
] Lovers and governors came and went.
Corners of the yard mapped and explored. Sleep ensued.
Lunch was memorab[le. ] A bee,
distressed [
]late afternoon dominated[
o]nly eat and eat, eat
and eat. By nightfall, [
]The children played. They[
]created, a scar filled with water.
n]amed the Place of Accumulation.
Night brought darkness and that which comes with darkness. [
]The children did.[
]Fire,[
], rediscovered.[
Preparations made for sleep. Beds made [
]to be unmade, a tent erected on the lawn.[
]Each dropped to sleep, one by one, alone.[
]Each one [ ] a separate dream [ ] consensus [
] the pond cold and still [ ]afternoon hot [
and wet [ ] the plants [ ] their fragrances [
]the world broke open like a storm or an egg.
Dear M[ ,
 ]delight[ ]to receive[
 ]delights me, too.[  ] Remember [
]when we [
?we]ave we create[
]out of other things [ ]warp and [weft?]
can be things [un]ours and the weave is still our own
like with [
]the children. They are
]one way [
]like me[ ] and yet [
]all another way[ like?]you.
[Dear D ,?]
I wonder how you can put together something you’ve never
seen. How can you reconstruct [
fr]om [ ] rubble a whole
cult[ure, ]gods and all?[
]wonder what it must’v[e
]been[ ]to watch[ ]the [
]language change[ in]to I[talian?
]people slowly[
]unintelligible to th[emselves
]foreign to themselves[
]weaving the words
they know into something[
]they don’t understand[
]I’m glad you li[ked] my mytho-poetic rendering
of a day in the life of the children. I swear I think they’re
Etruscan sometimes.[ ] I [ ]or[
]a day[
]can sound like[
]anything[
]What I pic[ture
]is the face of the man atop the vase you brought back[
]speaking as if[
]he had pebbles[
]in his mouth[
]that’s I think[
]it looks like [
]a language[
;]being born[
[Dear M ,?
]my fellow archaeologists [ ] even bakers
are archaeologists of a sort. [Consider?] challah,
and the t[ops?] of pies[.
] putting things together out [
]of things
that were apart. Remaking the unmade[
]to be what was meant[
]to be[
]what is it, what is anything, other than[
]a kind of weaving[
