Letter Found in a Cement Barrel 195
“I’m writing this letter the day since he became cement, and when I’ve finished I’m going to stick it into the barrel.
“Are you a workman, too? If you are, have a heart and send me an answer. What is the cement in this barrel used for? I very much want to know.
“How many barrels of cement did he become? And is it all used in the same place or in different places? Are you a plasterer or a builder?
“I couldn’t bear to see him become the corridor of a theatre or the wall of some large mansion. But what on earth can I do to stop it? If you are a workman, please don’t use the cement in such a place….
“On second thoughts, though, it doesn’t matter. Use it wherever you want. Wherever he’s buried, he’ll make a good job of it. He’s a good solid fellow and he’ll do the right thing wherever he happens to end up.
“He had a very gentle nature, you know. But at the same time he was a brave, husky fellow. He was still young. He’d only just turned twenty-five. I never had time to find out how much he really loved me. And here I am sewing a shroud for him—or rather, a cement bag. Instead of going into a crematorium, he ended up in a rotation kiln. But how shall I find his grave to say goodbye to him? I haven’t the faintest idea where he’s going to be buried, you see. East or west, far or near—there’s no way of telling. That’s why I want you to send me an answer. If you’re a workman, you will answer me, won’t you? And in return I’ll give you a piece of cloth from his overalls—yes, the piece of cloth this letter’s wrapped in. The dust from that rock, the sweat from his body—it’s all gone into this cloth. The cloth is all that’s left of those overalls he used to wear when he embraced me—oh, how hard he used to embrace me!
“Please do this for me, won’t you? I know it’s a lot of trouble, but please let me know the date when this cement was used, and the sort of place it was used in and the exact address—
