Archivist,
I think I need help. I don't really have anywhere else to go. I'm alone now, I used to have friends but they've left me. Or maybe they think I left them.
You said you feel a call to the Felt? Do you think the same can be said of Paper? Of newspapers, stained with ink that runs and forms into symbols I no longer recognize. Of books full of leafs of pages full of words that I claw at, desperate to understand and know and read and see, but when I do so I leave gouge marks in my arms. Of lined sheets that rip and tear and crease and crumple and breathe and quiver.
Is Paper the same as Felt? As Flesh?
I'm afraid. I Know but I don't Understand. I think I'm losing my mind.
Please help me. It hurts. I cry but the ink that comes from my eyes blinds me. There's no warmth in my hands anymore.
And yet it calls to me, beckons for my embrace, whispers sweet promises that I Know are lies. I don't think I'm strong enough to resist.
I just wanted to know.
- 📖
Statement of...a book regarding its cry for help. Received 15 June, 2024. Audio transcription recorded by The Archivist.